A Dark Knight Returns
by DonJuan'73
Summary: Part I of III. "I could've taken your mask off back there... but I don't give a damn about who you are." Barbara Gordon returns to the "new Gotham" to find that little has changed, the police just don't know it yet. As she dons a ski-mask she finds that she's not the only masked figure who is one step ahead of the authorities...
1. The Docks

**I OWN NOTHING BUT A SOUL AND A LIBRARY CARD. DON'T SUE ME. IT'S AWFUL ANYWAY AND IN A FEW MONTHS I'LL DELETE WHEN FINISHED. (Hopefully it will get better as I go along...)**

**READERS, BUY ALL YOU CAN FROM DC, ANY NOLAN FILM OR THE PEOPLE THAT BROUGHT YOU THE TRILOGY. READING MY STUFF WON'T GET YOU ANOTHER FILM... I OWN NOTHING! (Why would you even want another Batman film though?)**

* * *

**Prologue**

Alfred stood on the stone steps, looking down into the cold cave. He smiled slightly as a feeling of melancholy nostalgia washed over him.

Combing back his dark hair with his fingers, the man facing the waterfall paced around. He was in his full costume apart from the mask. Beside him a woman stood in a similar costume, but without the cape. She was swinging something that resembled grappling hooks in the air as she talked, attaching them to the rocks above her and occasionally swinging in the air over the grey water below.

Even from where he stood, he could see her eyes were large, lips dark and full. Her skin was pale and most of her hair was hidden under a helmet.

Alfred stood, not listening to their voices. Just the steady rush of water that continually echoed in the cave.

From here it seemed Bruce Wayne had never left and Selina Kyle was swinging in the air beside him.

Before he could do another thing, Alfred chastised himself inwardly for becoming a sentimental old fool. The couple were not Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. That was in the past.

This was John Blake and Barbara Gordon.

Alfred watched with concern as he became aware that they were arguing again, he heard their agitated but level voices echo in the cave.

It was strange to see them like this, John and Barbara being type of person that you would bring home to meet your parents. Good role models for the children at the home, caring citizens and hardly ever said a harsh word to anyone.

But Alfred knew that underneath those parts of their identities, they both harboured other feelings. Anger, and that anger that fuelled their need to become masked vigilantes only became worse when they were confronted with each other.

He had silently deduced recently that the reason they couldn't stand other was because they shared the same flaws. Like looking at a mirror image that reflected all your weaknesses back.

As Alfred continued to listen, Miss Gordon retorted with another one of her cool replies, saying that her new suit would change nothing and that she still was going to do things her way.

Before she said anything else, Alfred descended down the steps towards them. They turned, suddenly aware of his presence and immediately stopped arguing, looking guilty in the blue light.

Barbara dropped down to the floor and unhooked herself from one of Fox's new contraptions before forcing a dark smile towards John, who was still standing opposite. Her voice was clipped and polite.

"Thank-you for the suit and hospitality, you don't owe me anymore. I don't think we'll ever bump into each other again, Gotham is a terribly big place."

With a warmer smile she turned to Alfred to thank him for everything. He smiled back and assured her that he'd see her again soon.

Walking silently with her silicone boots she exited in her new suit.

When Fox customised it for her she had refused to wear the bat symbol and anything that was unnecessary, including the cape. She also decided that it be coloured the darkest shade of blue.

John looked over at Alfred once she was gone, still agitated.

"Why are you encouraging her?"

Alfred sighed, looking up at the caves ceiling.

"She was never going to stop, was she? Giving her a proper suit was the best option. She's gotten this far hasn't she? And without her I doubt that you'd be still standing here..."

Alfred looked down at his watch and took a mask from the nearby desk.

"We'll talk about this later. For now I'd get a move on if I was you, Mr. Blake. The scum of Gotham ain't waiting around for you to show up."

* * *

**Chapter One**

The dock at midnight was cold and deserted.

At Gotham's port stood a vast maze of warehouses and storage units that spread for miles. The buzz of the city was only heard faintly in the darkness along with the rhythmic sound of waves sloshing gently against hundreds of boats.

Through the narrow lanes that separated the towering blocks of units a black car slowly cruised through, navigating a way through this city of containers. The car engine stopped along with the lights as they reached a large dilapidated warehouse.

Four figures silently slid out and with stealth they approached the seemingly abandoned building.

Feet crunched.

Safety catches clicked.

Two swiftly stepped around the back.

Light streamed through a crack in the back door with the sound of muffled voices and the thunder of music.

The men outside murmured to one another.

One man opened the door and slid discreetly in to see a lowly lit densely crowded make-shift arena. The air was hazy with smoke. The loud classic rock music reverberated underneath their soles.

The audience of about three hundred or more were crowded around a huge metal cage, roaring as two women fought under the spotlight. They cheered madly as one was slammed to the floor, still struggling and kicking the air furiously.

Most of the audience were labourers in the docks but many were also dressed in suit and ties.

The dark figures slowly edged their way through the transfixed crowd, they hollered as one fighter took victory. The women stood panting and blinking in the hot lights. She did not smile but instead looked at the audience through puffy red eyes with no emotion on her face.

Above the crowd there was an overlooking indoor balcony with an office room.

In the office a man slowly exhaled a puff of smoke as he leered down at the muscular women in bikinis glowing with perspiration as they walked out of the cage. He itched his hooked nose he sauntered back to his desk. A younger man in a cream suit counted the handfuls of cash under the desk lamp. It glowed gloomily in the foggy room.

Back in the crowd the four men had singled out their opponents.

Up on the platform two more fighters entered the ring.

A thick chain appeared from a dark suit pocket.

The crowd cheered for the wrestler as she kissed her bicep.

A thick chain wrapped around a throat from behind.

The hoarse screams and gasps where drowned in the audiences cheers as four watchmen men sank to their knees.

A small woman appeared in the centre of the ring and shouted into the microphone. She was wearing a mask and a cape like a Mexican wrestler. She goaded the audience, asking if they wanted more, if they wanted to see blood.

The reply was excited yells.

The barrel of the gun hovered inches from the hooked nose. They were fast. A piece of greying black hair fell over his forehead, all that was heard was the steady tick of a clock.

Taking off his black hat the leader of the four looked down as Dragos Ibanescu sank into his seat.

"Dragos" he started in a heavy accent, "I expect that you know why we visit tonight. Where is she and what have you done to her? Quickly, tell."

Dragos Ibanescu sank in his chair and his shoulders dropped as his stoic caution turned to confusion. "We don't want those brains of yours messin' up the new kids suit now- do we?" With a gun the leader of the four nodded across the desk.

"Wait, who is sending you?"

The reply was Zucco.

"Then I have not done anything! Zucco? I do not have any bad feeling to him! Why you come?"

One of Zucco's men replied.

"Tip off." He pointed his gun out the window to the three women getting into the cage below.

"Nice little operation you have here, where you get those fighters? No, you don't need to answer that. We know about the trafficking. But that's not why we're here."

Dragos was losing patience as his already oily face sweated, dampening his striped collar. His sagging jowls shook as he barked emphatically, "I have NOTHING to be doing with it!"

The man, still pointing the gun at him bent down, eye level. His voice became soft and low.

"Zucco just wants his woman back, ok? And I'm here to collect. Boys?"

The other three nodded. They closed the door and the office blinds.

The crowd below watched the women in masks as they dealt blows, captivated. It was the excitement that they craved; the inhabitants of a city that was almost destroyed had a distinct feeling of restlessness now that all was safe and the city was beginning to strive. They craved the excitement but not the anarchy that endangered their wives and children.

This underground fighting arena was exactly what they wanted. All they cared about was feeling of insecurity they felt when they went there. At any moment the cops could charge in, there were thousands of different people that came though these doors every month.

Anyone could report it. No one did.

* * *

He stood before the glass case in silence looking at the suit in silence. It seemed to stare down at him with contempt in the blue light. Daring him. He closed his eyes as he thought of the past, the real Batman, protector of Gotham.

As he opened his eyes he exhaled in the freezing cave. Turning, he flipped his collar up on his black coat and walked up the stone steps. Papers and books were arranged in messy piles all around the cave. He looked back as the suit sank beneath the water. The lights flickered off as he opened the door to the exit.

* * *

**The more I write, the more interesting it gets. Promise. Keep reading for thrills, kids!**


	2. Evening Flight

Looking out at the vast dark city, the array of towering buildings sprawled into the ink blue horizon below. The sky was devoid of stars but the city, as if to compensate twinkled with innumerable lights that glowed and blinked. The dark silhouettes glided by silently.

The high pitched sounds of the plane were suddenly broken with a fuzzy friendly voice.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. Could all passengers please put on their seatbelts as we will be landing shortly. The time in Gotham is 8pm and is cloudy with the chance of rain. Thank you."

A young woman's copper hair draped over her face as she looked down onto the city through the small aeroplane window.

* * *

The airport buzzed with noise as the sophisticated woman with copper hair dodged happy families reuniting and business men yelling on their phones. Her black heels clicked as she walked.

She emerged from the airport and into the cold air wearing a black hat.

She hailed a taxi.

As she slid into the dark car the driver asked her where she wanted to go.

In a soft voice she replied, "Gotham police station. Please."

* * *

Sitting at the desk she noticed that it had changed considerably as she waited in her father's office. It had been refurbished due to an explosion that happened years ago and the pictures and plastic plants she remembered as a girl were gone. She caught her reflection in the dark window as she waited. She had been to Europe for almost a year after she left College and she had bought a lot of clothes when she was there. Now she was back in Gotham she felt that her neat dresses, frilly jackets and Italian shoes were a bit much all of a sudden.

"Barbara." Jim nodded towards her with a fleeting smile, closing the door behind him.

Smiling she said hello and got out of her seat to give him a hug. Jim patted her on the shoulder as she kissed him on each cheek.

"Oh yes, you were in France. I got the postcard, yesterday actually. I thought everyone was sending emails these days?"

"I thought it would seem a bit more personal."

Jim cleared his throat as he walked to his desk.

"So, how's Mom and…?"

"Um, she's getting there. I haven't asked about-"

Jim interjected. "Ah. Yes. Well, congratulations on the whole college thing by the way. I'm sorry I wasn't there to see you graduate. I'm proud of you."

Barbara pursed her lips, pausing before managing a thank-you. She realised that nothing had changed and that he father still had no time for her. She could tell he had other things on his mind.

Jim pulled out his deck drawer and riffled through it.

"Oh and here's a ticket before you go… It's a charity auction thing. You haven't been to Gotham in years, you might meet some new friends."

Barbara looked at it.

"It's for the Wayne Foundation? It's still donating? I thought with everything, isn't..."

Jim looked over his glasses as he laid the papers on his desk.

"A family deserves some sort of legacy. This one did a lot for Gotham."

As he went back to writing, she sat looking at her lap before standing and walking towards the door. Before leaving she mentioned that she had got a job at the library. Jim nodded.

"Bye Daddy. I'll see you later."

Closing the door behind her Jim Gordon sat with his hands folded, the emotion of regret flitted over his face as he looked at the closed door before looking back at the papers on his desk.


	3. Brunch

John Blake ran a circuit around the vast grounds of Wayne Manor everyday. He lived in a small house on the estate but liked to return to the manor occasionally when then all the children had gone to school. Alfred still resided there but only to look after the function rooms that were used for corporate and charity events that gave the home additional funding.

He was walking up the steps and just as he reached for the bell the man himself was opening the door to let him in.

As always Alfred's timing was impeccable.

"Good morning Mr. Blake, in time for tea as usual."

John turned to smile at the old English butler. Bruce Wayne's death had affected Alfred but he was still busy and industrious as ever. Without the help of Alfred he knew that he wouldn't have a chance of becoming the Batman, although Alfred's help was sometimes given grudgingly. Alfred was constantly telling him that Gotham will never accept another Batman and now that the Batman was honoured by the city he should leave it that way.

John looked around the hall as he was ushered in. Although it was mainly neat there was a few plastic Halloween decorations handing from the grand staircase. The place seemed lived in and warmer now that it was inhabited by more than two.

John looked outside at the lawns as he stood in the kitchen, soft cheery light streamed in. Alfred sipped at his tea as he flipped through the paper.

"I see Gotham's being praised by the President again, he calls the city an inspiration to the rest of America."

John continued to look out the window. "Hardly surprising since the government gave hundreds of millions to the city to boost the economy. It won't last."

"Still," Alfred smiled almost smugly, "It all sounds rather optimistic. You can't deny it Mr. Blake." Alfred reached for something on the large wooden table before adding, "Cake?"

* * *

"Impressive Miss Gordon, very impressive, I'd almost say that you are over qualified for this job!"

The neat old lady in purple sat drinking tea as she handed back the resume with a friendly smile. Her greying hair was braided and piled on top of her head.

"I wouldn't say that Ms. Smyth, I'm happy to have a job at all."

"Well, it is better than waitressing. Are there any other questions you have about the job? All you have to do is ask you know, and call me Julie dear."

After expressing her thanks Barbara began her work in the dusty archives of Gotham public library. Wearing plastic gloves she began to carefully put each book in bubble wrap. The room was old and dark with only one small window that looked out onto a brick wall. She exhaled as she thought to herself. Was this the first day of many monotonous days to come? How many years would she be here?


	4. Party, Interrupted

"To the one family who inspired a whole city- and may they continue to do so!" Everybody in the large room clapped as the host smiled and bowed his head on the raised platform, taking a sip of champagne.

The pink evening light shone through the long thin curtains that hung beside the huge windows in the large hall, floating and rising in the soft wind.

At the back of the room Commissioner Gordon stood silently with whisky in his hand. The Manor was now home to disadvantaged children, the girls and boys had stood and greeted the guests at the start of the evening. Although they were ushered to bed by a senior carer an hour ago, it did not stop the mysterious appearances of tiny hands reaching up from under the desert table.

"Hello Daddy."

Jim saw his daughter make her way towards him. Her wavy copper hair was swept to one side and her slim long satin black dress had a chiffon cape that billowed behind her. Half the room watched as they saw the commissioner's daughter, rather surprised by the transformation of the bookish and shy girl they remembered from all those years ago.

Barbara told herself that this time as she talked to her father she would not try so hard. She did not need his or her mother's approval or congratulations any longer. She was going to work hard for herself now. Maybe then she would feel fulfilled for once.

Before Barbara said another word a voice came from behind.

"Ah, Jim! Is this your little Barbara? All grown up now!"

He nodded towards her.

Barbara grimaced as she nodded, disgruntled at the hosts interruption. As he talked to a brooding Jim who was only half listening, Barbara slipped away to drink some champagne.

At the table she picked up a flute but before she had a sip she heard a frantic whispering below the table and the soft sound of a punch. Whipping the tablecloth back she found two surprised boys of around ten crouched with a beer and champagne. Before they could slide away she grabbed the squirming pair by the shoulders, amused at the antics of the boys.

The party had started to liven with music and couples took to the floor to sway to the jazz band.

One of the people who worked at the Manor had noticed Barbara with the two boys and quickly ushered the two rascals upstairs, murmuring their thanks.

* * *

John Blake stood alone in the crowd watching the couples dance. A singer had appeared on stage and began soulfully singing "I'm a fool to want you" while closing her eyes and swaying with the music. He only came to the party to see the commissioner but he was deep in conversation with the host and John's replacement, the new detective. Alfred had encouraged him to come for the company; he told John that he didn't want to be another recluse's only companion.

John was planning to leave as he made his way through the crowd but stopped when he saw a woman with two young boys by the shoulder. She was smiling as she gave them over to someone who led them out of the door.

He watched the redhead walked out of the double doors into the autumn evening, dress floating in the wind. Before he did another thing there was the echo of yells out in the hallway. The guests stood still, turning to the main doors. The loud chatter turned low.

A bang rang from far away.

The large entrance doors crashed open.

The guests screamed and gasped in shock as the deafening noise began. A large riffle blasted the ornate plaster ceiling and men dressed in black and makeshift sack masks came in. The sight made everyone shrink against the walls as bits of plaster floated down like snow.

The four stood in the centre as they surveyed the crowd. One began to speak with a booming calm voice. The politeness of his orders made them more threatening.

"Could the ladies in the room kindly go to the left and the gentlemen on the right?"

Everyone in the room obeyed. An elderly couple who had been dancing held hands for a moment before separating.

Barbara was still outside but had heard the noise. She stood listening and saw that the balcony she stood on also led to an adjoining room.

"Now ladies, please go through that door! QUICKLY!"

Blake saw the women go. He wondered what he could do. An artillery of weapons resided two floors under the room but he had no way of getting to them. He had been training for months now but what use were fists when faced with guns? The men watched with concern as the last woman shuffled in.

* * *

Three men with sack masks began demanding all cash, watches and jewellery from the men.

Jim Gordon watched the men. Questions arose in his mind. Why had they picked tonight? It was only a charity auction. The watches and jewellery would be traced in days and most donations were cheque. With worry he wondered if they had another purpose for being there.

* * *

The ladies had piled their purses on a table in the softly lit room. The marble floor glittered in the evening light, a puddle of liquid slowly spread on the floor reflecting the lit candles.

The masked man scooped the purses in a bag. He then ordered for their jewellery to be given over. As the women complied a quiet but firm voice emerged from the back.

"No."

One aged woman dressed in silver walked foreword shaking her head in defiance. She stared coldly at him as she held her gloved hand in a fist, a glittering diamond sparkling on it.

The roomful of women stared as she stepped forward with her head raised. The mask slowly turned. His finger touched the trigger. A small scream escaped from one of the ladies mouths.

A sudden burst of fire hurtled across the room and the licking flames attacked the masked man's trouser ankle. Before he could kick the flames off she had swept in unseen and stood behind him with an arm raised above her head.

Whack.

Scream.

The black stiletto heel in her hand had swung down on the masked head.

Whack.

She gave him a second blow to the side of the head as he fell.

The mask would be out cold for a few minutes.

The women stared. Barbara put a finger to her lips and urgently motioned them out, taking the gun from a limp hand. She whispered to them to run to safety. They ran out the other door the direction of the kitchens.

Barbara held the gun and padded back onto the balcony barefoot. She peeped though the glass door to see that all the men were facing the wall, hands on head. Now there were only two masked men there, raiding wallets.

She looked for her father. She let out some of the breath she had been holding as she spotted him.

Her mind searched for possibilities.

She was a poor shot. Her father told her this once when she had a go at target practice once. Her only chance was the element of surprise.

She had a bottle of alcohol and a handkerchief that could be set alight to create a diversion. But she might injure others or herself.

She heard the men discussing why the fourth man had not emerged from the other room.

Her time was up. She had to run.

* * *

John stood staring at the wall. He smelt burning. Glancing as far left as his eyes would let him, he saw Gordon beside him. Both masked men had also smelt the burning. Gordon caught John's glance and with his eyes motioned to the inside of his jacket. John heard one of the men opening the door; flames had caught the soft furnishings and were now a small inferno blasting out of the doorway. Whipping his gun out, Gordon shot at the distracted thieves who ducked in surprise. One was nicked on one arm and the other was slammed to the ground by John. The gun slid across the smooth floor. The guests saw that the masks had been captured and ran either looking for wives or trying to put out the flames with ice buckets and blankets.

* * *

Outside the remaining sacked heads ran out the door and jumped into the car. The man who had been knocked out with Barbara's shoe had woken in less than a minute and found the leader, alerting him to go. The car spun on the gravel before anyone could see them escape.


	5. Aftermath

It was midnight now and the sky was black. Barbara was wearing a tartan blanket around her shoulders as the lady in silver and her husband said their goodbyes. The hall was filled with the last party guests, police and fire brigade. The place was a mess with toppled tables, water and the remains of smoke.

John watched Jim's daughter watch her father talk to the other detectives. Filling up a Styrofoam cup of coffee he walked over to her as she stood by the open doors.

"Hey."

She turned around to see a man holding a cup of coffee towards her. She took it with a small smile.

"Great party, wasn't it?"

He shrugged.

"Not the best one I've been to…" he raised his eyebrows as he said with a wry smile, "these things are usually a bit more exclusive but I suppose it can't be helped."

Before she could say anything else Jim Gordon was standing beside John Blake, hands in pockets and looking stern and irritated.

He looked at the floor and scratched his moustache before looking at Barbara.

"A simple 911 call would have sufficed." He motioned to the singed sofa in the other room.

John had began to say "Sir, I think-"

Gordon stood staring at Barbara as he said to John, "Could you leave us for a moment? Please."

John smiled at her and said goodnight to the commissioner before leaving the room.

"You could have killed yourself and others tonight Barbara, that man had a gun and backup. What were you thinking? And you wanted to go into law enforcement? You can see now why I was so against it... I had that situation handled."

One thousand and one points for her argument lay on the tip of her tongue as her father lectured her. But she knew it was useless.

"Dad, he was going to shoot that lady… I couldn't…"

"You were impulsive. You didn't think… Just never do anything like that again."

Barbara watched as her father walked away.

* * *

John went upstairs to check again on the boys. Some had woken to the sound of shots and were rather shaken but now they had all gone back to sleep. Alfred was waiting on the dark corridor, looking down onto the hallway below.

"So, Gotham doesn't need the Batman?"

Alfred had been expecting this. "I think the police and John Blake handled it fine, actually." He replied. He looked over the staircase.

"I hear even the Commissioners daughter was something of a hero tonight."

John looked down at her as she put on her coat and went out the door. He was not going to change the subject.

"Where does Lucius Fox live now?"

Alfred looked at him seriously.

"Is there anything I could do to stop you John?"

John looked at him with a half smile and shrugged his shoulders. "No."


	6. Bess

Two plastic faces nodded towards each other, occasionally bumping. A girl with curly brown hair put her doll down and started to do cartwheels on the grass. It was a warm summer afternoon, two pairs small of bare feet ran on the lawn. The earth was warm under their feet. They reached the shade of the cool trees at the bottom of the garden.

She felt rough bark under her knees.

Higher and higher they climbed. Too high. She turned her head to her friend. Bess wanted to climb higher. The other looked down at the ground. She asked the Bess to come down, she was scared. The bark was slipping under her clammy hands. She looked up to see nothing but green leaves that glowed in the sunshine. Her foot slipped. She screamed as the gravity pulled her down to the inevitable…

Barbara jerked awake with a yell. She shook as she sat up in her bed, gasping as her heart raced. Tears began to run down her face. She saw that she was in her bedroom. Not the past. Wiping the tears she sunk back under the covers, sobbing underneath until she slept again.


	7. Episode

He stared at the screen before rubbing his eyes. He was searching for information on the two men who were arrested at the fundraiser and so far there was nothing. The two had no criminal record and it seemed that they belonged to no organisation. There was absolutely no connection between the two. His research was in vain.

The time was one a.m. as he turned the screens off.

In the darkness his reflection glowed on the glass that encased the Batman armour. He walked over to it and opened the glass panel. He reached for the mask under the blue light. It lay cool and hard in his hand.

* * *

Commissioner Gordon sat at his desk and looked out onto the city. The office was empty and silent as he sat deep in thought. As always, he hardly went home.

There was a thudding noise from above.

Gordon quickly snapped his gun and went to investigate.

* * *

Rain pelted down on Gotham city that morning. The sky was dark and the city was grey and colourless.

Barbara was sitting on a bus looking out the window. She had a book in hand as two office workers got on the bus and sat on the free seats behind her.

They began to talk boastfully of their weekend while Barbara looked down at her book.

"I don't care how they got here; all I know is those girls are hot."

"Yeah... I really dig it when girls fight, man."

"I heard that guys from the docks are bringing new ones in… A guy from G.C.P.D has it all under wraps."

"No way, no one would do that any more because- hey, we're going to miss our stop."

The two got off, suitcases in hand.

Barbara watched them with a mixture of contempt and curiosity.

* * *

As Jim Gordon sat in the diner he looked through the foggy glass and out at the busy city street. He had a lot on his mind.

The man he saw last night was not the Batman. When he had checked the roof last night he saw a masked figure standing, not saying a word. He had angrily asked him who he was as he aimed his gun but the figure had simply replied "Batman".

Gordon had lowered his gun and looked at him before replying, "You are NOT the Batman. Who are you?"

Before Jim could say another word the masked figure had jumped off the roof and swung to a fire escape on the opposite building. Jim had looked over but couldn't see him in the shadows.

This meeting had made Jim feel even more on-edge and worried than usual. Did Bruce Wayne plan to die at some point and then give the responsibility to someone else? It seemed impossible.

Jim threw his change on the table and walked out into the wet morning.

* * *

A thin bespectacled blonde haired man sat at the other side of the diner. He was concealed behind a paper; he had it opened at a page where he had made notes beside the articles. He made a neat circle in the condensation as he watched Jim walk across the street.


	8. Peripeteia

In the office there was a new boss. Business ran as usual, the guards and bar tenders was just different.

Zucco was in charge now and the profits of the place had softened the blow of a missing mistress.

The place was orientated around gambling but there was a one man who wanted to buy one of the girls tonight. Zucco was rather apprehensive and the whole business made him edgy but he couldn't turn down ten thousand dollars.

The men who had came to take her came in with a case. Zucco impatiently took the case. He shooed them out. With this money they could take half of their girls for all he cared.

* * *

Barbara had gotten a bus to the docks and had walked over a mile. She followed the cars that came through the dark alleyways. She had a black oversized waterproof coat on with a hood that covered her face. She could only see what was under her heavy boots in the darkness.

This place brought back horrible memories. It was the nail in the coffin for her parents' marriage. The night Harvey Dent took the one that Jim loved the most, his son, little Jimmy. Barbara would never be loved by her father and she would always feel bitter towards him because of it. No matter what she did it was never good enough. It was not her fault that her brother was a…

She heard the sound of music and yells from afar and she finally looked through her dripping hood.

* * *

A girl of around eighteen was escorted out with two men in black suits. She was thin, hair tangled and wearing thin blanket over her shoulders. She had just a string bikini outfit on underneath. As they walked into the cold night the girl moaned of either fatigue or cold. Her head hung as rain dripped from her hair.

A car was waiting outside in the black, lights still on. The two men viciously shoved the girl in. Her head banged off the car roof.

The suit laughed as he said, "Watch your-"

He didn't say anything more. His eyes were wide as he slumped forward.

The other suit who was about to get in the car began to look around. A boot slammed with massive force into the door. A slap of flesh and crack of bones sounded. He roared in pain.

The other suit had already awoken from his small concussion with a jolt and a snap of a gun.

She turned, sliding in mud the metal rod slapped his hand and gun, a dull clang sounded before deafening shots echoed in the air. Bullets bounced off a few cars and a cacophony of alarms wailed.

Her last blows were quick and frantic now as she threw the struggling driver over, dislocating his shoulder.

A crowd poured from the club and into the rain, blinking in the darkness. A few shouted.

She leapt into the car that had been left running.

Her foot slammed on peddles and swerving she hit cars as she ducked her head as a few bullets thudded off the door.

The girl groaned from behind.

Barbara never intended to do this tonight, tonight was about investigating a lead she heard from a bus. She wondered with bitterness if her dad was right. She attacked with anger and recklessness, it was almost automatic as she went through the motions of injuring. Her only advantage was surprise. They could've easily killed her.

The wipers screeched on the windshield as rain came down thick and fast.

She swerved through the labyrinth of crates, too focused on not crashing to have any direction.

She heard a metallic buzzing from behind, five pairs of lights flashed and flickered in the rain.

Barbara shifted gear and the car surged forward. With a sharp inhale she swerved and drifted dangerously close to the crates.

Bikes roared close and one was right behind the car.

Barbara braked and the car swerved in the thick mud, the motorbike was knocked over as he had lost control due to the rain.

She sped off again and after five minutes the lights had disappeared.

She noticed the cross dangling on the mirror as she checked it again. Only the mafia would expect Jesus to wish them a safe journey as they destroyed the lives of others with no remorse…

She whispered, "Please help me save her, I will do anything…"

The lights were definitely not there anymore. She drove at a high speed for a few miles before she felt safe to stop.

She turned off the lights and looked behind her. The girl seemed not much younger than Barbara; she was thin but had a very small pretty face. She was shaking, jittering and nodding with glazed eyes that focused into space.

She was going to be gentle.

"Hey… Hello? It's okay."

She mumbled something, it was foreign. Barbara thought fast, was it Romania that used lots of French words? She knew no Polish and did Ukraine have its own language? It could be some other language altogether.

"Bonjour? Bonjourno? Spreaken or parlez le Anglais? Polski? Français?"

She was just blurting words that she half knew but the girl seemed to see her now. She curled up into a ball as she shivered all the more. Barbara got out into the rain and went into the backseat to comfort her.

* * *

The rain poured and a convoy of cars full of gangsters drove in lines down alleyways. From overhead it looked like long snakes of light cutting through the darkness.

They searched through the mazes but the multitude of vehicles became a hindrance when they narrowly missed each other at corners.

Twenty minutes later they found a black car sitting alone. Men got out, poised for gunfire and war to ensue.

All that was heard was the rain as it slapped the mud.

Inside the dark car Barbara looked out of the back window. The lights shone on her worried face.

"Just go, okay? I'll find you..."

In the car lights a figure dropped out onto the mud on knees and feet. She was crying in foreign words.

The sound of revving and stalling roared from the car she came out of but there was just one gunshot. The car sped off leaving only flecks of mud behind.

The body wore little but a blanket. She shivered with her knees in the mud, so cold it almost burned.

One man approached her and grabbed her face to see it in the car light.

"She looks strong and all but is he sure this is the one? I thought she was blonde and more…"

"We can offer a refund if the one he wanted isn't there anymore."

Barbara mumbled some French, looking down at the mud. They wouldn't know any different. That girl was safe and Barbara was determined to know what was happening here.

Before she knew it there was a cloth at her mouth and nose and the car light faded into darkness.


	9. Gambling Debt

**A.N. Hey everyone! Not sure how to properly do this but... A big ta for the views and reviews! This whole story is typed late at night, therefore it's just random blah. But random blah for YOU lovely readers! (Writing helps me sleep but I have no good original stories so this will do. I would've done a Fight Club fanfic but you cannot improve on PERFECTION). Also, ironically I am one of the people who believe that Nolan's trilogy is fine the way it is and needs no fourth one or Nightwing one because it's great as it is. You don't want to milk it dry and whatever... THIS IS WHY I DON'T TO A/N'S! Night Night... This is going to be a really long story. **

* * *

The men lifted the girl into one of the car trunks.

In the darkness one of the men mentioned to the others, "Don't forget she's in there, leave her in there for a day and you got another body on your hands."

"No worries," one replied. "We are going to be using it again tonight. Just a few gamblers who got in over their heads… We just dump them now, like the old days."

One of the men grunted as he heaved Barbara into the trunk.

"It's not like anyone ever misses them."

* * *

The moon shone from behind the clouds. The early hours were approaching and a lone figure stood on the building.

The armour, although it moved easily, weighed heavily on his body.

He had been watching this particular gangs' movement for weeks. He had connected them to a number of disappearances and tonight he had followed them to Old Town.

Figures glowed in the heat vision as he watched through the lenses.

He had tried to tell himself that his first venture as the Batman was not personal or an act that could result in any feeling of vengeance.

He was just going to intervene if they try to kill the debtor.

That was all.

He was just going to hand them over to the police before they shoot the debtor.

Just like men like them had shot his father all those years ago.

No. It wasn't personal at all.

Through the heat vision he saw that they must be close as they had grouped outside one door.

The guns were blue in their pockets.

With a small swoop he was on the other building that was a few feet across from him.

* * *

In the small dank hall four men in balaclavas shuffled outside door twenty-three. One was about to kick down the door but one grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, we forgot to take those pills", he murmured.

The man shook his hand off his shoulder and replied, "Nah, save them for later, I know this guy. It we took those pills we'd be cleanin' up the mess for days."

Ten seconds later the door had been kicked in, holes shot in the walls and two of the men had grabbed hold of debtor, the third holding a gun to his cheek. There was a few screams.

Five seconds later another masked figure in black had knocked the lookout unconscious in the hall and the apartment suddenly filled with smoke.

Two balaclavas and the hostage had yelled in shock as one fell to his knees through the smoke.

The balaclava with a gun swung left and right, his eyes peering through the thick smog that made them itch.

The debtor decided to make a run for it.

The balaclava turned as he saw the debtor run towards the window.

A dart pierced the balaclavas neck.

The balaclava wobbled as he took aim at the debtor.

The gunshots sounded.

Torchlight suddenly flickered through the dark fog as the police burst in to the room, yelling.

Through the mask John's eyes were wide as he watched the wounded man fall back, hitting the window, eyes closing.

A flash of memory struck him and almost rendered him immobile.

Turning he saw the two cops wrestle the balaclavas to the ground.

He made for the other window in the apartment, escaping just as the cops got a glimpse of him, swinging into darkness after taking one more look at the shot man.

* * *

An hour later Jim Gordon surveyed the damage, ducking under the police tape that was draped across the door to the apartment. Blue and red lights glowed from outside the broken windows.

One of the forensics had four packets of tablets in sealed bags.

The debtor sat in a chair, slowly recovering from being shot in the chest. He had been working undercover and had been saved by a bullet-proof vest. He looked up at the Commissioner.

"You know you should be in hospital Hank."

Hank coughed as he clutched his chest.

"You know I hate them Jim. I'm staying here as long as possible… I wanted to talk to you."

Jim exhaled. He knew what was coming.

"I know," Jim said. "The other two officers thought they saw him two. It's just another nut job."

Two ambulance drivers came with a trolley for Hank. He stood and sat on it with difficulty before adding, "A nut job with stuff like the old one."

Hank handed Gordon one of the bat-shaped poison darts in a sealed plastic bag.

Taking it Gordon nodded slightly and told Hank to get well soon.

* * *

From above John watched the trolley going into the ambulance. Tonight had certainly been a mess and he couldn't believe he had landed into an undercover operation. He didn't check. His annoyance with himself was evident as his jaw clenched below his mask.


	10. Lost and Found

It had been two days. Each hour felt like one. The dehydration was killing her and the smell of the place made her feel constantly nauseous. She assumed that the cells were originally used for livestock. About three foot wide and six long.

There was food, plenty for her in fact. She stole from the others on either side because they refused most of it like the others. Vermin therefore was rife as they feasted on the unwanted food.

"Hey gals. Pop is home, guess what he brought?"

In the long cell there was silence throughout the day. It was catching. But when this voice came with it came a roar of inhuman wails.

The man with a balaclava and trilby hat on came in holding one single white pill.

That pill was what they gave you before you fought at night. It was a pill that gave you unbelievable strength; Barbara suspected that it was some form of steroid.

Barbara had fought twice and lost once. She lost the first fight because she had spitted out the pill the first time. She had done judo in high school but she was no match for her opponent. All she remembered was being injected with a needle before her next fight. She had been on the ground and half delirious before they had reached through the bars and stabbed her arm. She remembered wincing in pain and standing up.

After that, it had felt like being in a dream. In dreams you have control over every single aspect of that dream. The problem is that you don't realise until the last moment. Then you wake up.

As the man walked along the corridor his feet paused at her cell. She realised that she was not begging. She slammed herself against the bars quickly and imitated the others.

When she fought her second fight it was her that was violent. It had felt like stepping out of your body but you only saw yourself. The feeling was a mixture of awe and disgust. The fight was over in less than ten minutes. Barbara had to be pulled off her opponent with three men when she didn't stop punching the woman who was already out cold. She couldn't stop herself. She had no control. The referee tried to pull her off but she took his club and knocked him out. She got through a few men who came to help before she was finally overpowered by about six of them.

Her face felt puffy and bumpy and her molars on one side felt tender. She rubbed her eyes and her fists came back black. The men put makeup on them when they went out to fight. They wiped the black shadow on with their thumb and smeared on dark lipstick.

It was seven in the morning and everyone was asleep. But Barbara was awake and was going to use what she had to get out.

* * *

Jim watched the man through glass. In front of the man was the packet of pills that was on his possession. The same pills had been on all of their possession. Tests were still being done on them but so far they were having no luck. The packaging was traced to a large drugs company but they denied that they had produced anything resembling those pills and that they were fake. Jim sighed as the interviewer tried to coax out answers.

The new detective walked in.

"I still haven't found one connection between them, sir. It's like four strangers with no previous convictions just suddenly meet up to shot a guy for someone."

"There must be something…"

"Nope, just like those guys who crashed that fundraiser you went to."

"Well there's your connection."

"The connection being that they have no connection?"

The commissioner's phone rang before he could reply.

"I'm going to take this. Look into it. Tell me if they get any results from the lab."

Outside the room Jim answered his phone.

"Yes?"

It was his daughter's employer. She rang to say that Barbara had not come to work since Saturday. It was now Tuesday and late morning. The librarian had tried to ring and contact her but there was no answer, she was worried as Barbara did not seem the type to miss work with no explanation. Jim thanked the librarian and assured her that he would report it immediately.

* * *

A bright orange bottom half of a bikini lay crumbled right outside a cell in the morning light.

The guard had just dozed off for about ten minutes and had not heard or seen any movement. The offensive item was sitting on the black slime outside a cell block on the left.

He grunted as he saw that one of the prisoners had seemed to have devised bait, probably nudity for more pills. He was most annoyed at the fact that one of them clearly was not drugged enough; if she was she would be either sleeping or staring through bars like a vegetable. He would have to complain to those gangsters for being stingy with the drugs.

He wiped sleep from his eyes and thought about trying to wash the place someday as he walked to the offending orange item.

They washed the girls with hoses once a week.

He looked in through the cell bars at a sleeping woman with a blanket wrapped around her, corpselike.

The corridor was so tiny. He had put on weight. He was almost touching both the bars both in front and behind.

He couldn't breathe. He panicked. He groped for the person behind in the morning light. Behind him a orange string tied his throat to steel bars from behind. Tighter and tighter the nylon stretched. His pink face turned purple. His wedding ring scraped the metal railing.

He went down.

There was a padlock on her cell. Her cell was numbered as were the keys. Her arm got through the bars as she reached for them.

Barbara immediately got out and quickly tried to resuscitate him before locking him in. She had done it in panic. He had a wedding ring and was wearing glasses like her father.

She had taken his jacket, keys and shoes.

She trailed out in the boots. Her face was calm and defiant as she emerged into the light.

* * *

"Hello?"

John was drinking coffee and eating some terrible mush in a bowl. He wondered what Jim Gordon could possibly want.

After an awkward greeting and small talk Jim quickly told him the situation. He had just found out that his daughter has been missing for two days, possibly four. Jim explained that he would have sent one of his team but they were all so busy and he had wanted somebody he could trust and…

* * *

She looked for the car that unlocked when she pressed the button on the keys.

It was a nice car.

She drove in the morning light. Navigation was easy. Pale lemon light coloured everything. Avoiding her normal route home she looked for a place where you could easily misplace a car. It didn't take her long.

One mile and five gawking faces later she was almost home as she walked from her abandoned car.

* * *

John sat in his car across from the address that Gordon had given him. He was just about to call Jim to tell him that he knew nothing about his daughter or her possible whereabouts and that he would have to pick someone else for the job. Besides, he was totally exhausted.

Looking out the car window he took his phone from his ear, cancelling the call. A girl was shuffling up the street in a pinstripe jacket that swapped her and came down to her knees. On her feet black lace up boots forced her to shuffle. When she came closer he couldn't take her eyes off her face. Her face and lips were pale and grey, making her eyes and other bruises look all the more dark and blue. He also thought he saw a swipe of rust coloured blood at the side of her nose.

She was now standing at the entrance of her building and was pressing the buzzer. She didn't have her keys. He watched for another five minutes as she was finally let into the building.

* * *

She stood in the hot shower.

Steam rose up the glass panels as the water slid over her back and arms, covered in bruises with the occasional scratch.

She stood some more as she thought about what had happened. Water dripped off her lips and chin.

Dirty water swirled down the hole.

It hit.

She began to cry.

Her heart thumped, chest heaved and emotions tore at her insides as she began to wail, stifling some but not all. She felt like she was dying inside. What she had done and how she felt crashed over her like breaking waves and she shook. The fear of death, the adrenaline and hatred of those men finally reached to the climax and now she was safe she finally let the emotions show.

Wrapping herself in a big towel she shook all over as water slid off her hair and cheeks.

* * *

A buzzer went.

Her face dropped in terror and shock.

She looked in the foggy mirror. It was not pretty.

She slapped herself in the face to try and make it rosy.

The buzzer buzzed again.

She splashed her face with water.

She answered the call as the buzzer continued. The ring was loud and in her fragile state made her flinch.

"Is someone there? Barbara Gordon? Your Dad asked me to…"

She closed her eyes in relief. She thought that men from the docks had followed her. She coughed and tried to get her voice to work.

"No! Hey! I'm fine! Um, no, this thing happened and I had to, it's crazy. I worried everyone. I'm sorry I have t-", she cursed her voice as it cracked.

"Your Dad asked me to make sure you were okay. He was worried but everyone is so busy right now I was the only one he could call. Your Boss said you had not gone to work for days."

"Please I'm not… Look. I'll ring my Dad and explain. Thanks for coming but I have to go."

He suddenly spoke with a less friendly tone. "I'm not leaving until you let me in."

Barbara thudded her head against the wall in defeat.

She buzzed to open the door.

She panicked. She was going to lie about how she hurt herself.

She swept into the bathroom to put a bathrobe on.

The door knocked.

She put a towel over her head in an attempt to cover her face.

She kept the chain lock on as she opened the door a few inches, peaking through.

It was the guy she talked to for a moment at the fundraiser the other night. Why did her Dad ask _him_ to check on her?

John Blake's face stood in the small corridor outside, unsmiling.

"What happened to you?"

Even though she knew that she looked awful she still didn't like being reminded. She looked at her feet, angry but too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Her reply was quick and hasty.

"You've seen me, haven't you? I don't have to explain why my face is like this. It's my business. Tell Dad I send my love."

John blocked the closing door with his foot.

"Have you put anything your eye?"  
She continued to look at the floor as she replied that she had not.

"I saw you walk into your apartment."

She looked up at him this time with shock and then annoyance.

"My personal life is none of your concern."

His eyebrows went up in disbelief that she would be running after obese men in pinstripe suits.

* * *

After a few minutes of arguing in her doorway she had reluctantly let him in.

He walked around as she put on some clothes in her room. The apartment that she lived in was small, tidy and painted various shades of white and grey. It was empty of any personality except for the books lay in neat piles beside her sofa and tables, lining the walls. He noted that the covers were ordered by colour, strange for a librarian.

On one table John saw a few framed photos. One was a group photo of kids in Judo gear, an adult Barbara knelling beside them, smiling. Another was an old family photo, a small Barbara smiling with missing teeth and glasses. He was looking at the photo of an awkward teenage Barbara with frizzy hair holding a massive trophy with her mother until it was snatched out of his hand by a solemn faced Barbara.

She muttered, "Yeah, go ahead, feel free to snoop around."

Her face was covered in wet ginger hair down one side, covering the black eye and puffy cheek.

She put the picture back down, facing the wall so that it was out of sight.

She was tired, sore, emotionally drained and wanted to go to sleep for a week. She was annoyed that he had come to her like this. She drank some coffee as he sat on her sofa.

"Where were you Barbara?"

She looked into her mug and tried to fain some carefree nonchalance. "Oh, you know… Too many drinks and next thing you know you are waking up on some bus heading to D.C…"

He looked at her steadily, not saying a word.

Barbara closed her eyes and exhaled. She couldn't make anyone believe that. Even a stranger didn't.

"I had to help someone, ok? I…I can't tell you who or what it was but it was the only way and if I hadn't helped I couldn't have lived with myself."

She glanced at his face as she took another drink before looking out of the small window, blinking back a tear.

"It just went pear-shaped. But I'm here now and that's all that matters. I'm not telling you anymore than that. Um, tell Jim that I said hello and sorry for worrying him. It won't happen again."

* * *

When she was alone again in her apartment she took a packet of pills from her pocket. She had found them in the suit. She opened the door to her bedroom. Unlike the rest of her apartment the dark room was covered in posters and photos. Various laptops and computer monitors and keyboards littered her room.

Setting the packet on the desk she turned the screen on. At college she majored in Computer Science and Data Retrieval. If she couldn't hack the company herself she knew people who could. She didn't know what she was looking for but she knew that she'd know when she found it.

She silently vowed for justice as she told herself that she would never become a victim ever again.

* * *

"This is the woman we found in the stolen vehicle sir."

Gordon turned to see a blonde girl looking at the ground, on either side of the sheepish girl stood a translator and an officer. The translator quickly broke in with what the girl had told him. The translator was convinced that she was innocent but there were others to blame.

"The car she was in was reported as stolen ten months ago sir" the officer began, "But the trunk had traces of drugs and human remains that were quite fresh. From what we believe this woman was escaping from someone. She was found covered in mud and crying just a few miles from here."

The translator added "She told me that she was aided in her escape, she can only remember a woman swapping clothes with her so men would stop shooting at the car. But she said it was too dark to see what the woman looked like."

Jim Gordon looked up and rang for his detective, knowing that this girl could be the key to lifting the lid on the human trafficking that he suspected was happening somewhere in Gotham.

Before the three left his office the officer stopped and said that he was glad to hear his daughter was found.

"Yes," said Jim. "I don't think I need anything else on my plate…"

The officer smiled and replied, "No, Sir."


	11. Hacking into Mordor

**Hey readers, there seems to be so many of you but YOU DO NOT REVIEW or FOLLOW. I'm going to start dedicating chapters to reviewers and whatnot because they make me happy. When I write this fanfic I feel it is too Barbara-centric but I can't help it. **

**Note: Did you know that my hands-down favourite character in the Nolan trilogy is Alfred? Michael Caine is AMAZING. He gave that character Alfred some swag-and-a-half!**

**Why do I babble? Enjoy.**

**I DON'T OWN ANYTHING. I'LL DELETE THIS NOVELLA SOON, I PROMISE, DC/NOLAN/STUDIO PEOPLE! **

* * *

He was slumped in the car at the desk, his eyes were closed and his head tilted back. A blanket had been draped over him.

"Well?"

John jerked awake to see Alfred come in with a silver tray. John realised that he had fallen asleep while looking various databases and files from the GCPD along with others. He glanced guiltily at the toast and tea that Alfred had brought as he rubbed his tired eyes.

"You don't have to make me breakfast Alfred, it's not like you're my butler."

"It's lunch, actually Mr. Blake. It's the early afternoon. Besides," he poured some tea into a cup as he smiled, "old habits die hard."

John looked at the screens again and looked at the records he had been going through.

"Much luck last night?"

John sat with his hand resting on his fist as he continued to scroll before leaning back into the desk chair. He shook his head as he was handed some tea. Alfred nodded with understanding.

"Well, on a brighter note, a Mr. Fox rang. He's officially retired as you know, but he has been working on a few things, nothing big but he thinks you might be interested... I also gave him those pills you found."

* * *

Barbara was at the library again. Her boss was just glad that she was safe and after she concocted a better cover story, things were just like they had been, apart from the fact that she was hacking until the early hours now, collecting information.

She had dabbled with it in college; her friends just did it for fun. It was never anything more than practical jokes then, they loved the feeling that they could get caught. They were just a group of nerdy teens doing whatever the heck they wanted. Barbara had plenty of time for it between classes as she had a photographic memory, but she never told anyone about her special skill, the photographic memory was something that she was almost embarrassed about. It felt like cheating. Her friends just assumed she was a genius, but in fact she could just recall all of the information she was ever given. Barbara didn't think that she was anything special but that didn't stop her trying with all her might.

From her room she was back in contact with an old pal from New York, he was her accomplice and pretty much did any favour she asked as he had had a crush on her back in college. He was a valuable asset to her cause. He called himself Mr. Freedom. Online his icon was a football helmet with stars and stripes. He had told her the emptiness of the helmet signified the empty-headed nature of American culture. Or something. Off-line he was tall and pudgy with shoulder-length brown hair. A standard computer nerd.

First she had gotten the address and tried to hack into the company, it wasn't easy but with his help she had gotten in. It was all about finding one weakness. There were hidden files all though their systems and eventually she got close to something that could be linked to the pills.

One thing that she had not anticipated was how problematic it was hacking GCPD now. When she was in college she had did it on numerous occasions out of curiosity. It was child's play then. Now it was way more advanced, they must've spent the money from the government on technology. She wondered who managed to get her father to agree to _that_.

But Mr. Freedom had been searching and regularly emailed her at work. He had finally had a breakthrough. It seemed that a system that was connected to GCPD had all the information she needed. Freedom boasted that no one but him could've traced it. He said it was like "looking for a cake crumb in a pile of bigger looking bread crumbs with no glasses on." It seemed to be another case of the hacker becoming the hacked.

It was seven O'clock and Barbara was back home and looking through one of the most advanced databases that she'd ever seen. A voice crackled on her headset as she searched.

"BE-EAU-TI-FUL. Is it not, BB?"

"The security is ancient, and has crappy encryption. Who even?", she scoffed.

"It seems to have been running for years, scarily advanced for even five years ago. If I saw this system five years ago I'd be all 'that be some Matrix shiz right there mutha.'"

Barbara munched on her bowl of cereal in hand.

"CIA, FBI… This has just saved me a butt-load of work. I'll let you know if I need your help again."

But two hours later Barbara had hit a wall again. "Freedom, the GCPD is useless. No results, proper leads and insufficient evidence. I need to get into the labs myself... Freedom, you there?"

"Yeah, I am. Look B, one does not simply 'walk' into Mordor."

Barbara looked at the screen as she shopped for wigs. She replied, "Reference noted. I know that this is going to take a while but understand when I say that lives could be at stake here."

"O-Okay. Let's start at the top and work our way down. The guys at the top will have the most authority so their keys will let us access more. I've never did this before though. Are you okay with risking jail?"

Barbara thought to herself that she'd risk everything to do this.

* * *

John sat at the computer and had just been sent the results back from Lucius Fox. Fox had traced the pill and had said that what he had uncovered so far seemed suspicious. The pill was only in the prototype stage but the way it was packaged hinted mass-production. John looked at the CEO of the company and his information before looking at various recent CCTV.

* * *

Thanks to her friend Freedom, he revealed that there was only one master key. It belonged to the CEO. It was not long after they had gotten into his emails that they found he belonged to various escort sites. It was the perfect thing.

"Barbara, I don't know how to tell you this but…"

In the blue light from her screen in the dark room her face dropped. She muttered bitterly, "You think I'm too ugly. Not attractive enough?"

"No, NO. I mean, you're pretty and all but escorts have to be sexy in a fake way and err, cheap."

She snarled as she stopped typing and leaned back in her chair.

"Oh. Cheap is it? What a nice way to generalise thousands of women. By 'cheap', I take it, you imply 'buyable'? And by 'buyable' you mean that they are objects and have a price according to their ability to measure up to male chauvinistic ideals that… Must I go on? Or have I said enough?"

Freedom gave a flustered cough through the speaker. He forgot that Barbara was not someone to be messed with when it came to feminism. She was one of the women's rights campaigners at college and was the spokesperson at loads of events. She was pretty good.

"Err… I could create a profile and make it look like you are the only one available this week. Or clone the site? I need a picture though, any provocative ones?"

She rolled her eyes.


	12. Target for a Victim

**I stayed up late to post this chapter for just for jakefan! One of my reviewers! Sheesh. Might as well keep churning the chapters out before summer ends! Didn't spend a lot of time on it but... Just use the imagination! That's the BEST literary device. (No, it's not.)**

* * *

The restaurant was huge, dark and sophisticated. She had bought a dress that was worth a weeks pay but she didn't care. The black dress was tight fitting and transparent enough to leave little to the imagination while also hiding the fading bruises that still covered her body. The bartender took a sneaky glance as she sipped on her drink. The beads and sequins on the dress had been sewn into swirling patterns that covered bits of her bust and torso before the swirls pooled into the mass of sequins that covered her hips and bum. Her dark red hair was swept up in a knot but some strands had come loose at the front, dangling beside her pearl earrings.

She looked up at the grand plaster ceiling and beautiful chandeliers that reminded her of a place she had been to in Paris once.

Finally he came in through the doors.

He was a thin man who was smaller than her in heels. He was in his late forties and had thinning dark hair that was swept back over a shiny head. He was wearing glasses, a navy suit and a horrible tie.

* * *

Sitting at the crowded bar in a suit, John noted that the CEO was walking towards it, looking for someone. John looked down at his drink, looking inconspicuous, before looking up to see that the man was talking to a woman in a black dress. John watched with interest as the woman stood up. She was a few inches taller than him as they walked to the table. A part of her transparent dress had a train that slid behind her. John watched as they were led to sit at a secluded and dark place near the back of the restaurant. He couldn't see them clearly in the darkness but they were now sitting facing him. He watched as they ordered their drinks. John knew he had little time. There were pills in his pocket that he was going to use to put in the CEO's drink but he didn't know how to get them in.

* * *

The CEO looked over at his escort for tonight. It disgruntled him that this one looked so good, too good. In Gotham escorts in fancy places like this were the norm, he had no shame in that. But this one reminded him too much of those women he hated on the board of his company. The reason he liked escorts so much was that they were whores with no shame. They treated you like a king for cold, hard cash.

This one had too much pride about her. The way she talked had natural authority and behind those fluttering eyelashes was eyes filled with focus and intelligence. She sat relaxed with a smile that slanted to the right, showing a deep dimple. Hatred burned as he thought about the various ways he could take her down a peg or two.

* * *

"Hey, is this one for table twenty-eight?"

A pretty waitress with smooth brown hair looked at the bartender. Two glasses of wine sat on the tray. One was white and one red.

"Yeah, remember the white is for the guy. He doesn't like to be asked."

The woman had walked five paces and John knew it was now or never. He feigned to be a bit more intoxicated as he swiftly stood up and softly grabbed for the waitresses free arm. Her head turned towards him in surprise as he put is mouth close to her ear, whispering softly while one hand moved down her bare arm.

As he pulled back her lips curved into a smile in the soft dark light. She said softly, "I get off at twelve." before she sashayed up the restaurant with the wine.

* * *

"Personally, I think that the only way for this economic stability to last for more than five years is if… Yes?"

Barbara had been interrupted by the CEO waving his hand, signalling to be quiet. As he spoke his words dripped with contempt. His glasses glinted in the light.

"Look, are you new to this escort thing? Because I don't pay you for conversation." He took the wine as the waitress handed it to him. He continued to offend her casually after a gulp.

"When you are with me, you talk like the whore you are. Okay?" he looked at his wine glass before clicking his fingers at the waitress who was leaving.

"Is this the wine I ordered? I swear this piss isn't. Bring the bottle. Now."

He turned to her again. Barbara stared at him and wanted to grab his throat and smash his skull into the back of the chair to see which would crack first. But then she melted into a smile, masking her rage and pride.

"Sorry babe." She leaned forward so her cleavage deepened, her head resting on her hand. "Sometimes I watch the news but I'm just repeating words…" She took off a shoe and slid her foot up his trouser leg. Her dark blue eyes grew sultry as she looked up at him with her chin lowered. Her voice was smooth and deep.

"You should take off your jacket… You are making me feel uncomfortable. I like it more… casual."

* * *

John waited until the pill worked. He had slipped it in when the waitress was distracted. The CEO probably had an empty stomach so it would work quickly. He asked for the bill.

* * *

The CEO took another sip of wine as Barbara's foot was on his pocket. She didn't feel anything in his pockets so what she was looking for was definitely in the navy jacket. Suddenly the CEO looked at the glass with suspicion and got up and headed towards the bathroom. He muttered something as he rushed off.

As he left for the restroom Barbara reached for his jacket and rummaged for his wallet. She opened the butter soft leather wallet and riffled through the various cards and cash. There was more than one ID so she took them all. Her eyes darted around as she checked no one was looking.

* * *

John saw through the darkness that the table was only occupied by one person now. He saw the CEO make for the bathroom.

He straightened up his dark suit as he walked by tables and dodged waiters quickly to get to the men's restroom. Bursting into the fancy toilets his shoes clicked as he slammed all the cubicle doors open. Only one was occupied. He kicked he locked stall open to find the CEO passed out and sitting on the toilet. He had passed out before he could even get his pants down. The CEO's glasses had slid down his nose as he slept. John patted his shirt and pockets and realised that the wallet must be in his jacket.

Running out of the restroom he saw that his table was empty. He ran to the jacket, hung on the chair, to find that the wallet was open on the table, a few hundred dollar bills were laying there but no ID cards, just credit cards. Turning he saw the woman in the black dress head towards the door.

"Hey!"

Everyone in the restaurant turned towards him in surprise as he hurried after her, racing past the doormen in his way.

* * *

Barbara looked behind her and saw that someone must've seen her. She hitched up her dress as she ran out into the street. It was only eight O'clock but the sky was quite dark. People on their way home filled the street and she pushed past them as they stared. She looked for taxis on the street as someone shouted after her.

* * *

John managed to get her back in his sights as she raced for a city bus. He saw her in the streetlight as he gained ground, her hair was easy to spot in a large crowd. Her dress was flung behind her as she ran with surprising stamina and speed. Her hair started to become loose as she ran for the bus. Her exposed legs leapt athletically.

* * *

She had spotted a bus that would take her close to home, she planned to change and use the pass before the lab closed for the night. The bus stopped and opened the doors. She was only a few feet away. Her bus card was in her purse.

"Hey! Stop!"

* * *

He saw her hand grab the doors before they closed and she leapt on as it had started to move away.

He ran along side the bus as it drove away, long enough to see her through glass. The dark reflections made it impossible to see her face clearly. Watching the bus drive off, he took his phone out of his pocket and rang Alfred.


	13. The Prototype

**This one goes out to highlander348! Review and all that jazz! **

* * *

She saw an approaching lorry, heading for the Werck & Co. building. She looked around as her black pencilled eyebrows arched behind her dark glasses. The sky was dark as she stood under a street light. Abandoned factories stood like old ruins in the darkness, marking the death of a once prosperous industrial Gotham.

She had gotten Freedom to buy and send her a black bobbed wig along with some cheap black clothes to make her look different for the cameras.

The lorry driver looked down at a female who had her thumb raised as he drove down the road. She looked pretty skinny and feisty looking with those dark purple lips and black knee boots. He pulled over and she climbed aboard. She mumbled something about going anywhere.

After going through various barriers and checks the lorry drove by the beautiful glass building to a connecting back warehouse where he reversed into a back entrance. The doors behind them rolled up as he got out, helping to unload whatever it was under the bright yard light.

Barbara checked her mirror before getting out. A black wool hat sat on top of her short black wig with a short fringe. Her lipstick was a dark plum colour and she had applied dark shadows to the sides of her mouth and eyes, the reason being that on cameras she figured she'd look more like a thirty-year-old rather than a young adult.

She got out quietly and through the shadows of the warehouse she slipped by the men as they stood by a forklift, talking.

After climbing some steps to the second floor of the warehouse, she had gotten to a door where the card was needed. She swiped the first one but the light glowed red. The second worked. Before she walked though the door she took off her hat and pulled down her rolled up black t-shirt so that it covered her shorts and came to her knees. She brought a small briefcase out of her canvas rucksack and put the rucksack and hat in the suitcase.

Her high heeled boots clicked as she walked through the empty hallways before reaching the lift. There were cameras everywhere and she knew she would arise suspicion if she ran.

She walked by a cleaner with a vacuum as she went to the elevator. In the lift she took an earpiece from her jacket. Barbara asked the earpiece if there were still people in the lab.

"I've been watching the entrance since lunch B, they've all gone now bar one, hurry your ass."

She took a small plastic container out and unscrewed the cap. In it was half of a small white tablet. She swallowed it before putting the container back in her jacket.

She deftly opened the suitcase as the doors began to open and slipped on the wool hat, only this time rolling it down fully to reveal a balaclava. She took a gun from the briefcase before walking down the blue narrow corridor that smelled like bleach. She put on thin yellow plastic gloves.

It looked like any other science environment and almost reminded her of college. At the door labelled "C2K9-PRIVATE" she took the card out and swiped it. It opened.

She burst in through quietly to see a woman in a white coat looking through paperwork. She was wearing earphones as she was writing on paper with a microscope and a framed picture of a dog beside her on the table. Her back was to the door. The lab had a long metal table lined with empty test tubes and some pipes.

The scientist wrote another line before she felt one of her ear buds pop out. Looking around she stared for a second.

"Cute dog."

She screamed at the gun the masked woman with purple lips was holding.

"Be quiet or I'll shoot."

The woman stared as her eyes began to water, eyes staring at the gun the whole time.

Barbara put a gloved hand into her pocket and pulled out a packet of pills. Barbara waved the gun slightly as she handed them to her.

"You made these. Tell me everything. Quickly."

The woman in the lab coat replied after a few minutes, "They-they are used to reduce psychopathic tendencies but we only make the prototypes. The production happens some place else, they don't tell us where, it's company policy... Wait! No! There is no production!"

Barbara was irritated easier because of the pill she just took. That and her fear gave her a short fuse.

"You're lying. They are steroids. What if I told you I'm under the influence of one as we speak?"

Barbara shot out her hand and took a nearby thin metal lab stool. She swung it at a table so hard that the metal stool lost a leg and clattered on the floor, bent. The table was dented too.

The woman put her hands over her face and screamed before putting her hands over her mouth.

Barbara stood still, feeling a little guilty now. She said a little less forcefully, "Show me where these prototypes are."

* * *

When he rang Alfred, Alfred already had a plan B. Alfred found that there was one place in the whole building that did not technically "exist" on any files or records, although it was clear that it did on the blueprints of the building. Alfred had found that it was located on the basement floor and was conveniently close to a sewer pipe running underneath. John hated the fact that he had to go down another pipe again, of all things. But there were various small explosives that could clear the way for an entrance.

A couple of hours later and Alfred was proved right, after the debris had dropped and smoke cleared in the pipe he hooked himself onto the floor above and a sonar device showed what was above him. He took out a drill-like object and put on a dark visor over his mask before shooting up through the hole.

* * *

Barbara walked down the steps into the prototype storage room. It seemed more like a bunker and was not like the rest of the building. It seemed dodgy.

* * *

He stood standing in his cape as he looked around. He had spied a whole pile of boxes like the ones he was looking for and he saw that these were marked with "A. Asylum" and "City Hospital".

Suddenly he heard the beep that signalled a door was opening. He hid around one of the many cabinets.

* * *

As Barbara entered she realised that it was like a library for drugs. Shelves of drugs stood in cabinets in the large storage space. Everything was metal and shiny.

"Show me where they are," Barbara said from behind.

* * *

He looked as the lights flicked on and turned around to hear the sound of boots coming towards him. He stepped behind more cabinets until they stopped. He saw a woman with a balaclava dressed in black with a gun and a suitcase.

He took something from a pocket and waited until they were closer.

* * *

Barbara was just about to look closer at the opened drawer before the lights went out for a second. A force came out of nowhere, taking her feet out from underneath her, making her gasp in surprise. Her face and hands made painful contact with the cold, hard floor. As the lights flickered back on she saw the gun slide across the floor. She looked up with her mouth parted slightly. Her heart stopped for a moment.

Looking down at her was the Batman, that person from that night years ago, the being, who was impossibly big, strong and unstoppable to her then was now watching her lying on the ground, eyes unreadable behind the mask and the black eye paint.

"STOP! BOTH OF YOU!"

As the Batman looked at the scared strawberry blonde woman holding a gun, Barbara knew that he was going to think that she was the bad guy. The only thing to do now was get away. She was confident that those steroids were still working.

When she took halves it just meant that she didn't try to beat people literally to pulp, she was confident that she could get away from the Batman in the next five minutes before she was handed over to the police. She'd rather die.

He looked directly at the scared woman in a lab coat and began to tell her to put the gun down.

"You're safe n-"

A crowbar that was hooked on underneath her dress was now lodged in Batman's breastplate and pulling herself up into the air with remarkable speed and strength, she aimed down for his jaw as her fist, which now sported a knuckleduster, pulled back for a killer blow.

Before she could, she found that her punch was blocked with an armoured arm and in a blur he whirled her around so that the crowbar was now crushing down on her chest. Her arms were useless as she tried to loosen his grip on the bar that trapped her.

Their scuffle had made the scientist even more nervous, her hands shook as she screamed, "I-I'LL SHOT!"

Barbara wheezed under the pressure as she struggled but managed to say, "Go ahead. Shot. See if I care."

The woman backed away slowly. Both masked figures were more concerned with each other until the woman ran towards a wall. She pressed a panic button. Deafening sirens suddenly sounded and the woman ran for the exit. A barrier began to make its way over the door.

The struggling Barbara, who had been concentrating on getting her feet back on the ground, mumbled an expletive as she knew that she was in trouble now.

* * *

John saw that the doors were closing and he guessed that it would take ten minutes for the force to arrive. Before he could let go of the crowbar to free the woman she had already grabbed hold the bar and flung herself forward, he let go just in time so that he didn't get thrown over on his back.

The woman who did not expect him to let go fell to the floor but did a neat front roll to break her fall, landing on her feet, couching. She stood up with the bar in hand.

"Look, I'm not the bad guy here…" She began, over the sirens.

* * *

Upstairs the two uniformed security guards with guns saw the scientist screaming as she ran at them in relief. Unexpectantly, one viciously pushed her away, slamming her into a glass cabinet of lab apparatus. It crashed around her as she hit the floor. She watched them in confusion before fainting in the lab.

* * *

The room glowed red and sirens wailed she grabbed the pills and put them in the suitcase along with some papers and a disk that had been in the drawer.

Before he could say anything guns shot at the heavy metal door, thudding over the sirens. Both realised that these men were definitely not the police or regular security guards.

He grabbed the woman's arm as they ducked down. The woman shouted as he took off the loose tile. The large tile revealed a hole. He told her to go first.

"WHAT THE...?"

The woman looked at him with anger and confusion in the red light before bullets hit the walls and steel cabinets. Like a flash she slid down the hole. She threw in the suitcase first and went after it. She slid quickly as she was a lot smaller.

* * *

Eyes closed tight she held her breath as she slid, almost vertically down the hole. The feeling of sliding through rock and earth lasted for a short while before she dropped with a splash into a big pipe, landing on her hands and feet.

She got up gasping and looked left and right, unsure where to go. She heard the gunfire sounds echo down into the pipe. Batman suddenly slid down, landing on his feet with a heavier thud. She turned as she heard bullets bouncing down the hole and hitting the shallow water. She followed the cape as he hooked himself on to some sort of rope before grabbing her shoulder. She began to say something but was dragged along on some sort of zip wire and soon they were climbing up a ladder to the exit. Far behind them shouting and more gunshots where heard.

As Barbara climbed out of the hole she looked up at the night sky. She was pretty happy to feel the air on her face. It was so dark she felt safe enough to take off her mask, making sure her wing was intact. She turned to see Batman staring at her, he seemed to be sizing her up and contemplating.

"You know," she began, "that gun was actually a water pistol, I bought it at a joke shop. That's why I didn't care when you knocked it out of my hand."

He didn't say anything. She looked around at where they were. It was beside another abandoned factory. Its concrete shell towered over them in the dark. All around them was old fences and crumbling walls, a stark contrast to the shining new buildings in the distance.

Barbara took her canvas backpack out of her suitcase and put the suitcase in the backpack before slinging it on her back. She looked at him, a thousand questions on her tongue.

"Why are you interested in those pills?"

He replied in monotone, each word was slow and precise. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

Barbara looked out to the city as she avoided his stare. She said with hesitation, "Those pills turn you into a monster. That's all I'm saying. I want to destroy them."

He watched her face as if he was trying to tell if she was lying.

After a moment he walked towards an old wall with barbed wire on the top. She could feel the rain beginning to spit down.

Behind it was what looked like a bike, but some crazy custom job. A small noise of admiration involuntarily came from her mouth. It was like the one she saw back in the days when she watched Batman on the news.

"Need a ride to the city?"

Her awe turned to hesitation as she heard it start. It sounded more like an aircraft.

She said, "No thanks, I chose life..." above the sound of the bike before looking back at the manhole cover.

She thought she heard something.

"Wait!" She rolled her balaclava back on. "You wouldn't have any helmets in there would you?"

* * *

**Of course he wouldn't. **

**Review for another chapter! MWAH HA HA HA!**


	14. Meanwhile

No police came that night.

Pamela sat at a huge table at the top floor of the building. This was her boss's office. She sipped her water again. Her hand shook.

She had calmed down after the commotion and was now gathering her thoughts together. She looked out of the window as she thought about the woman who had broken into the lab. Pamela's hands still shook a little as she remembered how the intruder broke that stool over the table; she seemed to be completely in control. Pamela had always wished that she could be like that, but she had always been timid and shy.

"Feeling better now, are we?"

She looked up to see a middle-aged man in a suit. His eyes were pale, his dark hair was greying and he had deep wrinkles on his forehead and mouth.

"Y-yes."

The man sat down across from her and folded his hands, watching her intently. His smile was cold.

"Good. We decided not to get the police involved tonight, the thieves did no damage. Now, we are willing to compensate you for the trouble tonight…" he placed a file on the table, flicking through it.

After looking at a few pages he said, "Ah, biochemistry. You applied for that department when you came here, but you were moved. Well Miss Isley, you are now the newest member of that department. Happy? Of course you are."

Pamela was taken back. She nodded as she was too shocked to smile.

Looking up, the man smiled coldly again, "I trust that you won't tell anyone of tonight's little mishap. I'd hate to call up those security guards…"

She froze as she heard the casual threat in his voice. He continued to smile as he began to walk out of the boardroom.

Looking down at her water, Pamela sat alone in the massive room.

Despite getting her dream job she still felt a knot in her stomach and she thought again about that woman with dark lips who was so strong, fast and confident.

* * *

"Sir, I think you should see this."

Gordon turned around as he looked over his desk at a detective.

"Look, if it's about another Batman sighting I'm not…"

"No. Sir," the detective narrowed his eyes at the paper and looked back at Gordon with an attempt at empathy, "It's a bit more… closer to home."

Gordon swallowed as he took off his glasses, asking the detective to tell him what the problem was.

The usually confident man looked at his feet, not daring to look the commissioner in the eye.

"A guy has came in, confessing that he was the Peter Pan killer. We looked it up and we saw that one of his… victims was in your care at the time. I wasn't sure if you wanted to… y'know…"

The blood drained from Jim's face but he managed to speak.

"It's ok Bard. Yes, look into it. I'll wait awhile before seeing him myself. You know what to do."

"Yes sir."


	15. The Lady is a Thug

She sat in the hall with her legs crossed.

After the events that happened a few nights ago, she knew that being a black belt in judo was no longer enough for her. She had to step it up a notch. It made her skin feel funny when she remembered how he so easily blocked her punch as she flew through the air at him.

Tonight she was at a mixed martial arts studio. She fidgeted as she sat surrounded by men and the occasional woman. They were covered in tattoos and holes where they had piercings.

Barbara's hair was in a low ponytail and she was wearing judo pants and a vest top. She had looked for one of the roughest places she could find when she came looking for a mixed martial arts studio, and this one seemed to tick the boxes. The old hall was once a gym but it had fallen into disrepair. All that was left was an old boxing ring that had a very faded floor and worn ropes. The hall had no windows.

As she sat with a straight back their teacher came into the room. He was a bald man in his forties, standing tall with piercing upturned eyes and a hard mouth. He was not alone as a couple of other men had joined him onto the boxing ring. He spread his arms wide and called for the lights to be turned off and the spotlight turned on.

The three men were wearing white vest tops as they looked down on tonight's students.

Barbara gulped a bit in the dark as he began.

"You are here for different reasons tonight." his voice echoed over them, deep and solemn. "Some of you are here for revenge. Some are here for pain. Some are here to make something of themselves and some… are here for excitement. But I do not care what your motives are."

He looked around, pausing for effect. The group of people before him stayed silent.

"For $200 we will teach you over six weeks, six weeks of blood, sweat, blood, tears and blood. We have developed our own brand of martial arts, one that we have been practicing for over a generation. We promise you that it will be effective in turning your body into the most lethal weapon. You have probably came here because of our reputation on the streets."

He paused again and nodded towards the two other men.

"Tonight I will take on each of you in the ring. If you are still conscious by the end we will teach you and at the end of the six weeks one of you will win a prize, the prize of a lifetime. So, you're up first tough guy, you with the cross on your forehead."

The man got up slowly. He was over six foot and was well-built. He slid through the ropes and before anyone knew what was happening a gong sounded out of no where.

The speaker bowed and as he rose up he leapt into the air in a backwards flip before leaping high into the air, so high that he towered over the tall man and with a deft jabbing movement he poked the mans neck twice with each hand before landing to watch the giant slowly fall like an oak under the light. The bald speaker turned to the dark audience and said that they should always be efficient when fighting. Especially when tackling the largest of opponents.

As more came forward some of the men started to leave. Barbara glanced nervously to her right as another man got up and left as they saw another man slammed to the ground. She saw a woman with a snake tattooed all the way up her arm sitting cross-legged. Her face was calm and serious as her short bleached hair covered one eye.

Only a couple of men had managed to get through so far, mostly they were smaller younger men.

Barbara twiddled her fingers nervously as she felt the white pill in the pocket of her shirt. She was definitely going to take the whole one tonight.

Her thoughts were cut short as she was almost next. She was dreading what they'd say as she walked on. Would they refuse to fight her?

She gulped down the pill in nervousness and swallowed some bottled water with it.

The cold feeling spread through her body as she looked up to see it was her turn.

On the ring she stood with bare feet spread shoulder length apart. She was not scared anymore and her eyes were dark under the light above. Her tight sports top covered everything but her toned arms as she readied herself.

The gong sounded.

The speaker bowed.

Her fists where ready and she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

The bald head shone in the light. He was not rising up.

Barbara, in her new state waited impatiently for a minute.

"We gonna start or what?"

He stayed in the position.

She frowned in frustration but refused to move.

Suddenly his eyes opened and still looking at the floor he flipped as he stood in the air, Barbara dodged him by turning but she wasn't fast enough to fully avoid a swift punch, she heard it whistle through the air before it painfully made contact with her ear.

As her hands blocked another punch she kicked out with her foot, attempting to make him stay at a distance.

The blows came hard and fast but in her increasingly numb and aggressive state she felt nothing and finally she managed to grab his arm, with the intent of pulling a judo move. As she threw him over while crouching on the ground, he reached for her throat in midair and jabbed it easily.

She chocked up as he landed on his feet and watched her hit the floor, a cloud of dust rising, gilded moats floating into the air as she lay defeated under the spotlight.

Her eyes looked up into the pale yellow orb and she coughed painfully as it took all of her might to get up. Fighting this man was like punching a sack of rocks. But she was up.

"You fight like a thug, very surprising."

Standing while trying not to touch her throat too much she looked at her new teacher. She could only nod.

They were to call him "Master".

He looked down at her in dismissal as she got down off the stage.

"Wear this here in three night's time."

She looked to see a huge and serious man hold out what looked to her like a red and white wristband.

She took it and walked out into the night.


	16. Books and Cages

**A.N. More reviews= More chapters! I am a (wo)man of my word. Thanks for the reviews! They make me happy! Big love y'all!**

* * *

John sat in the morning light and did his breathing and meditation in his humble living room. Soon after he had discovered the cave under Wayne Manor over a year ago, he had used some of his savings to find a mentor who would train him in unarmed combat. His training as a police officer and experience as a boxer in high school were not going to cut it when fighting half of Gotham every night.

His daily meditating amused Alfred, even when John tried to explain that he did far more than meditation in North Canada for a year Alfred still didn't take it that seriously.

Along with the training John had also been frequenting some of Gotham's notorious bars lately in an attempt to find what made these criminals tick. What they did, how they thought and how they fought were all revealed as he sat in the smoky bars at night. Lately he had overheard that there was something big happening at the docks and he was planning to investigate as the Batman soon.

He tried to meditate but even now, he thought of the encounter with that black haired woman a few weeks ago.

He remembered how she took that crowbar out of nowhere; it had taken only a second's distraction. It perturbed him to think how small and slim she was, yet she was so close to flooring him on two occasions. After this, he had started to doubt his ability and that was why he had begun attending cage-fighting matches in the last week. He had recently signed up to partake in a fight, knowing that it was the only way to gain any real experience. He felt guilty as he knew that the future Batman shouldn't train by brawling but he felt that it was the only way.

* * *

"Oh, hey Dad."

Barbara was halfway up the stone steps and stood outside the library, about to go in for another day of work.

Lately she had been getting regular calls from her father; something that would have once overjoyed her was now a small nuisance as she tried to lead her new double life, especially during the evenings when she had to make up some lie about her social-life, love-life or leisure time. All of which were non-existent.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Over the phone her father said that he had tried to ring her last night, but there was no answer.

"Sorry Dad, I was at Judo class."

Her father sounded slightly surprised as he told her that he thought that she gave that up years ago.

"No, that was the whole gymnastics thing. I've always liked contact sports better."

Over the phone her father changed the subject, mentioning that after she finished work she was needed down at the station for questioning.

Barbara's heart stopped as she stood still. She had taken every precaution when she broke into that drugs company a week ago and her mind raced as she wondered what to do.

"Dad? What's this about? Has someone told you something?"

There was a pause over the phone as Jim Gordon chose his words.

"It's about what happened years ago, that time your friend disappeared."

Barbara let go of the breath that she'd been holding but now her face was full of new concern.

"Okay. I got to go to work now. I'll see you later. Love you."

* * *

She sat behind a large desk in the library flexing a sore fist; she was going to be using her left hand to stamp books today. She was still tired from the night before as she rubbed her eyes.

She sighed as she watched a large group of girls and boys walk into the library. It was the children from the Wayne home, a big orphanage. They came in different groups through the weekends.

Today it seemed that it was the junior children's turn. Most looked about eight or ten as Father Reilly shooed them in. After he gave another warning about being quiet the group of around thirty dispersed through the buildings many floors, most were good kids but she watched some like a hawk as they tended to roam about.

As she sat in a daze thinking about a kicking technique from the night before, she heard the noise of someone clearing their throat. She looked across the large wood desk to see a little blonde girl dressed in a baggy shirt and jeans. Barbara's frown turned into a smile as she said hello, cute children where a special weakness of hers.

The little blonde girl had a serious face as she told Barbara her problem. Barbara nodded thoughtfully.

"You say that you've read _all_ of the books at the home?"

"All of the good ones."

"Ah. Well, junior fiction is on floor three, section two and on the right where you will see…"

Barbara paused as she looked over her reading glasses comically at the confused girl. Barbara leaned back in her desk chair, calling to another part-time member of staff.

"Hey June, cover the front desk for a minute?"

* * *

Barbara's black heels clicked as she walked up the marble steps with the little girl.

"What's your name kiddo?"

"Stephanie."

"And what do you like to read, Stephanie?"

"Mysteries mostly."

Barbara put her good hand on Stephanie's shoulder and patted it with a smile.

"You've come to the right place then. We have every Nancy Drewe ever published, although I'm more of an Agatha Christie fan myself..."

* * *

The crowd were roaring.

The lights were low.

The music was so loud you felt the vibrations through your body.

The crowd consisted of both men and women; some were holding signs in the arena. Beers were raised with the voices as the next two opponents entered the stage.

John was standing, waiting to walk out into the crowd, not nervous but in no way calm either.

A few scantily dressed women flashed him smiles before they walked out into the crowd. He swallowed one last mouthful of water, waiting for the referee to take to the ring and introduce the fighters.

"Next up, we have one of Gotham's finest street fighters, Erik Kowalski! We also have a new face with us tonight… Robin Grayson!"

He twitched as he heard his name before he walked out into the crowd. He ducked his head as the spotlight was on him. He felt a bit paranoid that someone in the crowd would reconise him.

Waiting outside the cage a small, pudgy man with a cigar slapped him jovially on the back as John gave his arms one last stretch. The man had a yellow moustache and a terrible shirt. He spoke with a raspy drawl.

"First time, boy? It looks like it's yo' first time."

He took a drag before slapping the side of John's face, looking him over at arms length like John was his son or relation.

"Very nice, good face, good face. How did it work out for ya, havin' a good face? I say yo' probably had a swell time…"

John looked up towards the empty cage and back at the man who swayed a little in his drunken state.

" I had a good face too once, but once your ma' age your looks don' matter anyway. G'on up there boy, I gotcher back!"

John was almost amused as he gave the man his thanks before going in through the doors of the cage.

He couldn't see the crowd from here as the lights were so bright in his eyes.

His opponent opposite was a similar build and height. He was young and had a shaved head and badly broken nose. Outside the bars two men yelled words of encouragment in another language.

As the referee shouted, John prepared to fight.


	17. Broken but Never Beat

**Well readers, here is yet another chapter! I'm loving the (sometimes extremely flattering) reviews... To that flatterer out there, you know who you are, I... I suggest you invest in a pair of glasses, or get new ones.**

**Give me reviews and if you have any ideas for possible plots or other stuff don't be afraid to ask and I'll shuffle them in or whatever! Big love. (Reminder- I OWN NOTHING!)**

* * *

"Miss Gordon?"

Barbara turned to see a tall man in his twenties, with chestnut brown hair and an open friendly smile.

She was still in her work outfit, a neat blue dress and knitted cardigan.

Jason Bard looked her over a bit as he remembered her vaguely from the charity ball a few weeks back. When he had seen her then he had been rather taken with her, she certainly looked mesmerising that night. But now as she stood with her hair tied up and glasses on her nose, he thought she looked less so.

"It won't take long Miss, just some questions and you'll be free to go."

* * *

As she sat at the table in the white room she glanced at her reflection in the mirror as the man who sat opposite her took out papers from an envelope.

"Do you recognise this man?"

She looked closely at a middle-aged man with grey hair and sideburns. She replied that she didn't recognize him.

"On the third week of staying at the lake house all those years ago, did you hear anything during the night? Any movement, did your brother ever say anything?"

"No. As for my brother… he didn't speak much then. I remember the night after she disappeared, August second; he wouldn't let me close the bedroom window even though it was chilly and I was frightened. He didn't seem to be affected by her disappearance. Other than that, nothing of significance happened."

"You seem to have a clear memory of it, even though it was almost a decade ago."

"I… It's something that I've thought about quite frequently, I suppose."

"You understand that we can't interview your brother for obvious reasons."

"Yes."

"Well I think that's all we need Miss, if we need you we'll call. Thank-you for your cooperation."

* * *

As she was walking out of the station Jason Bard, who had talked to her earlier ran after her before she got out the doors.

"Miss Gordon?"

She turned around to see the detective pushing past a few laughing officers as he tried to catch up to her. As he got closer he grinned in a way that reminded her of male protagonists in the black and white movies she used to watch in college, a large white smile full of charm.

"Before you go, I was wondering if we could go for lunch or dinner sometime, maybe on Saturday?"

By this time he had leaned slightly on the wall beside him, looking down at her. She glanced sideways to see the row of officers was still there listening in. She didn't know what to say as she looked behind him to see a community notice board. On it was a flyer that Barbara assumed was a gift from God.

"Oh, I'm sorry but on Saturday's I volunteer at Gotham's soup kitchen…" she looked at the poster again, "On Saturday it's pretty busy, family night."

To her surprise Jason nodded understandably, dropping the flirtatious grin.

"Oh, I see. I've been down there a few times lately. They need all the help they can get… It's strange that even though Gotham is doing well economically, the soup kitchens are bursting at the seams… But I guess not everyone gets an equal slice of the pie. As usual."

Looking at him now with a softer expression she told him that if he happened to come by the library that he come and say hello sometime.

Smiling again, he came closer and in a voice that sounded like a suave Humphrey Bogart impression he said, "I'll remember to bring my library card…"

A deep dimple on her right cheek appeared as Barbara tried not to laugh at his cheesy wink.

He was charming alright, too bad she never trusted charming people.

As she walked out into the dull evening he called out before she was gone.

"Can I call you, Barbara?"

She smiled as she replied, "You can call me Miss Gordon."

He smiled at her reply and stood with a smile on his face, rather smitten.

* * *

As he sat on the sofa he held his face together.

'Robin Grayson' had won the fight, but at a cost.

After a few painkillers and lots of ice he had fell asleep in the early hours but now at midday he was still sore and swollen.

He coughed before wincing at the pain in his chest. He was sure that one of his ribs had been fractured.

He also had a few deep cuts on his chest, small but deep. They were so painful he couldn't even put on a shirt; instead he lay under a comforter and blankets.

"What in the…"

John saw Alfred came into the living room, looking shocked at the sight of him.

John spoke hoarsely and slowly, trying not to move his chest too much as he spoke.

"I know. You don't have to lecture me Alfred. Bruce Wayne would've never done something like this… I know."

Alfred almost smiled as he looked down as John pressed some more ice on his bare chest, the bruise underneath was large and purple.

"There's one thing that I'll never lecture you about Mr. Blake, and that's lecturing you about becoming more like Bruce Wayne…"

Alfred picked up a bloody shirt off the floor while shaking his head at the injuries.

"You don't need any help in that department, I can tell you…"

* * *

After another few hours of sleeping John had awoke. The sky was overcast outside as he got up and walked to the nearest mirror to properly assess the damage.

His heart sunk as he had thought that his face felt worse than it looked. He was wrong. His eye was totally bloodshot and swollen and his bottom lip had been cut on his teeth at some point.

As he swiped back his untidy hair he briefly thought of the morning he saw Barbara Gordon a few weeks ago with similar injuries. A feeling of guilt passed over him as he realised that the pain he was feeling now was probably similar to her pain that morning. He had been so absorbed in himself lately that he never really given that morning another thought. He wondered again, how she had got those injuries.

* * *

Barbara stood in the gym on her knees, gasping.

She heard the leg whistle through the air before she blocked it with a loud thud.

Tonight was a test in stamina, twenty minutes of relentless fighting, four on one.

Her mouth was dry as she tried to get up, only for someone to ruthlessly kick her feet out from underneath her in the dark.

Before one of her opponents could kick down on her again she grabbed one down with her, pulling him into a headlock and using him to block blows by the other three.

Her movements became slower and more laboured as the twenty minutes were almost up. Struggling on the floor for the last minute she thought about her upcoming plan, revenge against the men who degraded her and countless other women. She had not forgotten them.

She was going to wait until her training was almost over. Sort of like a mock-test. She was planning it meticulously, making sure everything was perfect for her debut in true crime fighting.


	18. Dark Reflections

She roared through the rough neon streets, the lights reflected off her black bike and helmet as she skidded and dodged pedestrians and cars. The roads were dry tonight so she drove with all the more speed through the East End.

The strip clubs blasted out low metallic music into the dark night as she ducked down further on her speeding bike. The reverberations from the speed climbed up her arms and almost made them numb.

Behind her only one squad car was brave enough to drive through the dark narrow streets after her.

Her bike roared over the sound of sirens as she accelerated and turned around a sharp corner, leaning to the left so much that her knee pad touched the road below.

The cop behind her attempted to turn the corner after her but slid out of control, spinning on the road before crashing into a row of parked cars.

As she sped away for a few miles, the neon lights slowly gave away to the Gotham's centre where skyscrapers towered over her.

She was out of the small alleyways but now she was being pursued by five cop cars on the open road. The one a.m. traffic consisted mainly of trucks as she accelerated into the sparse traffic. The road was lit in amber as the city blurred by her.

In front she saw more cop cars closing in in the distance.

She adjusted her helmet as she crossed lanes towards the tunnels and the cars followed her into the bright tubes that glowed with amber light.

Her gloved hand grasped and turned at the handles as she felt the stream of air over her suit, the resistance increasing with the speed. The engines noise vibrated through her whole body as it took all of her strength to stay in control. She felt the bike wobble slightly underneath her.

She tucked her helmet down lower as the force was beginning to take its toll on her neck.

The lights flying by her blurred ever more quickly and she heard the air rushing by, flooding her ears. It was so loud her eyes watered slightly.

When she came out of the first tunnel and more cop cars were approaching in the oncoming traffic.

She slowed slightly as she took the middle lane, allowing one cop car to gain on her, coming up on her left. She blinked as the lights flashing on the car blinded her through the helmet visor.

She sped up so that the car was tailing her closely from behind.

Barbara listened in on the radio frequency and heard that road block was forming at the end of the next tunnel.

Knowing she had little time she began to allow more cars gain on her and start to box her in.

As they came into view she accelerated forward and started to drive dangerously close to the car on her left, testing the driver's nerve as he got nearer to the oncoming tunnels walls. She overtook him at the last moment and the corner of the car caught the wall, spinning and causing a pileup for the other squad cars behind.

Her arms where really hurting now as she slowed off to spin the bike around, using her foot to balance herself as she spun. She burnt rubber tracks on the road as the exhaust from her bike surrounded her in a thin mist that shone amber in the tunnel lights.

The cops watched the black figure buzz loudly by them.

Inside one of the intact cop cars one man requested backup as she zoomed closely by the large wreckage she just caused.

Her powerful bike echoed in the tunnel climbed up into the open road. The city glowed in the cold night as she came back up into the open air, tail lights glowing as she dodged oncoming trucks.

After a few illegal manoeuvres she was on the road back into the city. A light suddenly shone over her as a chopper towered over her.

Not daring to look up, she cruised into the city centre where the buildings were higher, forcing the copper higher into the air.

Squad cars filled the streets as she raced by a huge shopping mall, they were blocking each road.

She spun in a two-hundred-and-seventy degree angle before driving towards the huge mall parking structure, cars still following.

When she came through the entrance and saw the yellow barriers, she braked sharply and swung her body to the right, narrowly missing the barrier as she slid below, her padded knee pushed the bike upright again once she skidded under.

She raced up level after concrete level and found herself at the very top floor.

She reached the dead end and looked out onto a lower building with a flat roof, about twenty feet away.

She spun around her bike as she saw the remaining squad cars come up, flashing in the night. Some got out with guns pointing at her direction.

"You're stuck now!"

She revved the bike.

Spinning the bike she drove away before reaching the furthest point she could.

One officer behind the wheel, still in his car murmured, "Oh no, she isn't..."

Accelerating, she heard one officer shout into the night air as she let go.

In a burst of speed she was soon in the air.

As she flew through the air she focused on where she was landing, below her was the roof of a new building, close enough to land on.

She thought.

Her blood ran cold.

The bike underneath her was heavier than she thought. She didn't pick up the speed that she needed. She was dropping down in a smaller arch than she expected.

Everything stopped.

Everything was in slow motion.

The front of the bike dipped forward, pointing towards the ground below.

She was falling.

The roof began to slide out of view.

She let go of the bike as she reached out for it.

She lauched her feet off the bike seat.

She felt the ledge with her finger tips. It slipped away from her.

Now falling in the darkness her limbs flailed pointlessly in the air.

She saw her dark reflection in the black glass building across from her as she fell.

Her back was arched in the air as her legs and arms were splayed, behind her a large cape flew out behind her like spread wings.

She had not been wearing a helmet, it was a mask.

She was Batman.

* * *

She awoke with a start, face down on the keyboard in the morning light.

Her face wore a disgusted scowl as she cleared fast food cartons on her desk.

"Stupid dreams…"

Three computers were sitting before her; one was showing free-running videos, another showing street racing bikes and the third was glowing with lines of computer code.

Her eyes squinted at her watch as she got up to get ready for work.

* * *

**Ahh... Only a dream... It ****_would_**** be a dream to get some more follows and favourites though! ) (Ta for the reviews, keep suggestions coming!) **

**So we are nearing the end of part one! I have a few short spin-offs planned too, but for now I'll hopefully finish this one. **

**Also- Part one will not end until our Barbara has kicked some serious ass. *wink***

**(Sorry for typos and such...)**


	19. Vengeance Wears Sneakers

**A big ol' chapter for my very small, but very awesome group of readers... Fav/Follow/Rev!**

* * *

Weeks had passed and John was feeling pretty good about himself.

After the recovering he had gone back to try again, winning again only this time with barely any injuries or effort.

While the Batman situation still weighed heavily on his mind, he had convinced himself that this was the best option for now. The extra money was great as he had been eating into his meagre savings lately, and he had found himself never going home alone afterwards as there were many available, attractive women around, eager to get their hands on the newest raising star.

He was sitting in bed and looked over at the woman who had come home with him last night. From here all he saw was her hair, a dark brown colour with a few platinum streaks through it.

Although he enjoyed the company for obvious reasons, he found that most of the time he was quite thankful to see them go once morning came. Maybe it also had something to do with the fact that he was nearing his late twenties, one night stands just were not like they used to be, there was no fun in it anymore. Now they were rather pointless and bland.

In the cold light of day showgirls were never quite as enticing and lovely. They were usually suddenly cold and distant when they saw where you lived and when they left with barely a goodbye, it was then you noticed your white sheets covered in dark tan streaks and makeup.

As John climbed down the stairs, he vowed to stop the cage fighting as he mentally counted up his winnings, estimating how long he could live on them.

He clicked on the morning news as usual, hoping that nothing happened last night that Batman could have or should have stopped. He already felt guilty enough as he knocked back a glass of that was probably egg yolks.

"Yes, Susan. Last night a warehouse situated in Gotham's docks was reported to be on fire, some eye-witnesses claimed that it happened in the early hours of this morning. There have been allegations that organised crime had been involved but the police say that they cannot give a report at the present time."

John watched as the newscaster went on, he turned the volume up.

"…And we have footage of it here."

On the television poor quality footage in black and white depicted a warehouse full of people, their movements in the camera was slow and jerky.

The camera had been positioned at a very high point in the warehouse, looking down at the crowd and what looked like a cage, but the light that shone over it made it hard to see.

Suddenly at a far corner of the warehouse a white flash appeared from the darkness and the jerky motion of hundreds of people running for the exit filled the screen.

The newscaster continued his commentary as John watched the commotion.

As the people were running out a black figure was coming into view, the CCTV slowly followed her movement, frame by frame. He was sure it was that woman.

The flames lit the darkness as she knocked four figures down with what looked like bars in her hands.

The video didn't do her justice as the camera only took about two frames per second, but he knew that she was fast and skilled as the blurry figures around her dropped to the ground.

"This warehouse and its operations were unknown to the police at the time…"

He saw the figure run out of view on screen.

"This footage was sent to us this morning, presumably by the masked person we see here, the gender is yet to be specified."

The footage stopped and back in the news studio a representative for Gotham police sat across from the news anchor, having a discussion.

John's eyes were glued to the screen as the woman from last night walked down the stairs behind him, wearing a coat, yawning and looking around, unimpressed.

Not tearing his eyes of the screen John asked her if she wanted breakfast.

"No. My taxi is here, see you."

As she closed the door he watched as the grey haired representative emphatically insist that there were no plans to allow the rise of vigilantes in Gotham.

"But that person may have saved lives."

"The police had got there within twenty minutes of that fire starting..."

"But by then the victims of the trafficking ring were standing outside and the leaders had been tied up."

"Apprehending criminals is a just small part of the job. Besides, if the police had solely dealt with this there would have been no need for a fire crew to stay for four hours, dealing with a fire in a built up area. Not to mention the fact that a car had also been set alight outside. Once an investigation is carried out the culprit, even if it is the black masked woman, she _will_ be held accountable for her actions."

"A woman? The masked individual is a woman?"

The man paused, looking mortified.

"...I'm not answering any more questions."

John watched the screen as the representative got up in a furry and stomped of the set, the news anchor's mouth twitched slightly as she finished up the story, ending with "Well you heard it here first folks, this has been Jenny Travis reporting."

* * *

Walking out into the Saturday morning air she looked up into the sky as she got out of the bus. As she walked out onto the busy street she stopped by a newspaper kiosk. Her breath caught as what she saw both elated her and frightened her terribly.

Each paper that morning was plastered in her photo along with the burnt remains of that warehouse.

The headlines were bold as the words "trafficking", "masked man" and in particular "hero" stood out.

Dizzy she put her head down and walked to work.

* * *

Jim Gordon was exhausted.

First it was the Batman and now it was this.

He recalled how six hours ago he was driven down to the docks to see a terrible sight.

It wasn't the fire, tied-up criminals or even the shivering starved women that had made it so bad. It was the fact that the media had got there first.

As he got out of the squad car Jim had yelled to the others to get the journalists out as they were already trying to interview the shivering women who flinched as the media crowded around them, flashing cameras in their faces.

In the commotion they did find a CCTV camera, it was assumed that it was put there by the masked man in black. Little did he think that a copy had wound up on every news desk in Gotham only a few hours later.

While he was certainly not happy about how the criminals were captured he was certainly happy with the fact that they were now finally on to something.

* * *

Jason Bard stood outside the wreckage, pacing carefully around. He was trying to retrace the woman's steps from the night before.

Standing at the burnt-out remains of a car he began.

He had a habit of talking to himself as he did these things.

"So she's got here and she wanted to create a distraction…"

He paced over to where she would've retreated from the fire, finding a small empty tank of gasoline at a wall of the warehouse. Beside it was a dried out footprint in last night's mud.

"She wears sneakers as she…"

He looked up to an open burnt black window far above him. There were traces of mud on the rough concrete.

"Climbs the wall... She got in as people were still distracted with the fight."

He went into the burnt remains of the warehouse, ducking under police tape and looked up at the window she came in.

"On the top floor she set up the camera… She was close enough to throw a homemade explosive at the bar. Causing another fire… Good aim."

He looked around looking for how she had gotten down to fight those four men.

"Using the thing you used to scale the outside wall... you then used the rope to jump off the railing and onto the ground."

He stood on the ground where she would have been fighting. He did some comical slow karate moves in the air as he looked at the surroundings, imagining what she saw.

One of the forensics in white, who had lingered behind, watched him wearily as Jason looked at the ground, dusting some white ash away with his foot.

He walked in the direction that she had walked in when she disappeared out of view in the video footage.

It was towards a large door to the right, behind the black metal cage at the back of the room.

"So, the door was locked…"

He looked at a dent in the door, tracing it with a gloved hand.

"Strong gal. I like that in a woman… You kicked the door, breaking the lock and damaging the surrounding wall…"

He went in through the open door and saw a large concrete room lined with cages like a dark dog pound.

"Now… How did you free those girls?"

He looked around and turned on his flashlight for dark corners.

Looking behind, he saw what he was looking for.

The room had little smoke damage and in the corner beside the door he saw a broken stool with pale scratches on the dirty concrete.

"You used this against someone who was guarding them, possibly chocking them and knocking him unconscious…"

He turned on the spot and saw some padlocks on the ground and some still hanging open on the cage doors.

"He had the keys… You knew he had them. You unlocked the doors. You then… Uh-uh."

One cage door was hanging off the hinges, bent and on the floor. A dent was in the wall. A wooden bat had been recovered there.

"Someone stopped you halfway through. There was a fight, traces of blood. He had a blunt instrument though, and one of the criminals had a wound to the face... My guess is that you used the keys after you were pushed; you put them in between your fingers before you punched him? Only that would have got him off you because you're not too big, are you?"

He walked around, pausing at the floor trying to find any other clues.

He walked around the corner to see the end of the row of cages before looking at the door that she probably exited.

Behind him the Commissioner stood, watching the young and promising detective before he interrupted Jason's monologue.

As Jason turned around he saw a pale and greying Jim Gordon. These days Bard had begun to worry more about Jim's health. Jim's lifestyle these days would be tough on a man of Jason's age, let alone a man who was in his fifties.

"Anything to contribute, Bard?"

"We'll have to wait until the interviews are finished but I'm sure we are dealing with a young woman, average height… wears sneakers."

"Is that all we have to go on? What about the pills?"

"We are guessing that they were used on the fighters. We have found hundreds of needles and boxes of pills. But the lab says that they aren't steroids or stimulants… So we don't know why they'd do it, unless they were being used as human guinea pigs."

The Commissioner looked thoughtful as he looked around before replying to Jason.

"Keep digging…"

"These interviews are going to take awhile… You could get some shut-eye sir... I'll call you."

Jim gave a small smile as he saw Bard's face, full of concern.

"I'll be fine… You're starting to sound like my doctor. I'll get some when I get some. Tell all patrols to keep a lookout for masked women… wearing sneakers."

* * *

"I was looking over the CCTV from last night." Alfred began. John bent down to look at the screen. The footage had been slowed and the computer analysed her movements as the fought.

"Look at her aggressiveness and technique, probably some hardened criminal, brought up on the streets." Alfred added, "So we are probably looking for someone with past record of violence."

John shook his head.

"No, she's probably like those other black masks. They were all previously clean of convictions."

John mentioned that it was probably the girl he saw that night in the drugs company. Although she seemed to be a better fighter than the one he remembered.

Watching the screen they watched as she kicked a man in the chest before stepping over him and disappearing off screen.

"She'd make a good partner…" Alfred said with a twinkle in his eye.

John looked at him sideways.

The butler's eyes crinkled as he smiled and gave a little nod.

"…In the ring, of course. Might toughen you up a little."

* * *

**Oh, Alfred! He's so comical! You gotta love him! **

**Everytime you review/fav/follow I get a real burst of energy when it comes to writing, I really do! So I hope you are all enjoying it. I make a real effort to make my writing style quite cinematic, is it working? Anyhoo, DonJuan sends her love... **


	20. She Kills for Peace

Barbara lay on the mat.

She was sure a bone was fractured.

Above her platinum hair shone as her opponent looked down at her.

Barbara closed her eyes in defeat and pain.

* * *

She walked out of the old gym, tonight one of her last sessions.

"Hey."

Turning Barbara saw the platinum short haired woman in a massive denim jacket, mini dress and fishnets.

The woman looked around thirty, beautiful in a tough way. Her eyes were harsh but smouldered while her red lips were large and pouted. Her cheekbones were high and her face was thin.

Her body was covered in tattoos.

"Erm, hey."

Barbara was uneasy as the woman had never talked to her before. She always looked so unapproachable.

The woman asked where she was going. Barbara replied that she was going home.

"Do you vant to have a drink or something? I'm sorry for hurting you."

There was a hint of an Eastern European accent.

"Thanks, but I'm not sure. I don't really drink…"

* * *

In the quiet crumby bar Barbara sat a little uncomfortably in her trench coat and tweed scarf. Everyone around her wore leather and denim.

Barbara looked at her beer as Marta talked about herself while sitting on her stool, glass in hand.

Marta was thirty-four; her parents had come to Gotham when Marta was ten. She had two small children with a man who she had kicked out of her house. She told Barbara bitterly about his gambling debts and how he sometimes came back for money.

"Usually I fought him off, I'm strong. But last time he came he beat me sore, hurt for weeks. I don't know vhere he got the strength from… Anyway, that's vhen I signed up to join the Ghost Dragons."

Barbara swallowed as Marta spoke so casually about her sad story.

Marta stared into the distance as she swallowed another shot.

"I'm never going to let my kids see their mother get beat up again, and this prize means that we can live better from now on. I know it."

"What?"

"The _prize_."

She looked at Barbara before laughing into her glass, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You _don't _know what the prize is? Everyone knows- that's why we're there! The prize is to work with them! They are hired muscle, bodyguards, loan sharks… With the money I'll be able to quit when I'm forty, leave Gotham and start a new life."

She turned to Barbara suddenly with a slight menace in her eyes.

"The reason I asked you to come here tonight Barbara Gibson, was to warn you that I will not lose that fight. I _will_ kill you if I have to. I thought it would be good to warn you, you the only one other than me who can win it."

Barbara looked at the woman with concern and pity for a moment as she thought about what to say.

"Marta… I will not fight you, I don't want the prize. But are you sure that it has to be this way?"

Marta looked away again with sadness and anger and replied, "You don't know what it's like down here, do you?"

Marta folded her arms in the dark smoky bar as she looked at the people behind them. They were sitting alone, poor, drunk and wretched.

"I'm too old to work in a strip club and too proud to be a prostitute. I didn't finish school because I was pregnant at sixteen. I've been a waitress for the last ten years and the pay barely feeds my children. It's the story of half the women in this city… Do _you_ know what it's like?"

"N-no."

"I thought so. I gotta go tuck my kids in. Remember what I told you, in case you change your mind."

Marta slid off the stool and reached into her jacket for her wallet. Barbara stopped her and said that it was on her.

Marta looked down at her and with a whisper of a smile she was gone into the street.

As Barbara sat alone she looked up at the small television screen, contemplating.

* * *

Jim Gordon looked out onto Gotham. He was well wrapped up in his coat, expecting as usual, the unexpected.

He heard the flutter of fabric in the autumn wind.

"Well?"

Jim turned to the masked man.

"How did you know I always come up here at ten thirty?"

Avoiding his question John asked what Jim knew about the criminals who had recently been apprehended.

"Not a lot. They don't even seem to know themselves. I want to ask about the warehouse. Did you know about the trafficking? I think this is something bigger than that and I need that masked woman to tell us what she knows and how."

"I had my suspicions about the docks. But she got there before I could. If I find her I will bring her to you. Is that all?"

Jim looked out into the city once again.

"No, there have been some disturbances lately amongst the poorer areas and I wondered…"

Turning he saw that the Batman was gone before he could finish his sentence.

Jim couldn't help but smile as a small feeling of hope arose in his chest.

Maybe not all was lost.

* * *

Barbara was leaping through the night, heart soaring high despite her constant worries of late.

She loved the feeling of falling as she jumped on rooftops through the cool night; the rooves glowed luminous in the moonlight as her feet treaded on air for a moment before she landed, bending her knees and doing a forward roll to break the impact of falling from the height.

She had waited a couple of days for the whole warehouse incident to blow over, but to her surprise it was still prominent in the news.

The "Batgirl" or "Bat-chick" had really caught the Gotham's attention; the feeling was both elating and frightening. She had been patrolling the streets of the East End for over a week now, watching out for mainly women in the night.

The reserved librarian that no one ever really noticed was now a hot topic. Her friend Freedom was constantly giving her updates about sites, blogs and chat rooms dedicated about the "Batgirl."

She didn't like the name, she did not want to be affiliated with the Batman, but she couldn't help but smile when she saw graffiti dedicated to her on the streets.

* * *

**You know the drill! If ya like it... Fav/Follow/Review! **

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	21. Desperately Seeking Selina

**This chapter is for all those lovely people who have been waiting for poor Batman to suffer a butt-whoopin' from little ol' Batgirl...**

**It might not be quite what you had in mind but it needs to be realistic... Slightly.**

* * *

At the cave John sat in his suit, mask in hand, annoyed that this was taking longer than usual.

He had collected every sighting and it's location over the past week, looking for a pattern.

So far it was rather random, although there seemed to be more activity in the East End.

"She's definitely on foot…" He mumbled as the clusters of activity were quite close together.

As he left for Gotham, one of the screens in the cave looped news footage of the Batgirl. One channel was asking people in the street what they thought of Batgirl.

On the screen a construction worker gave his verdict saying, "It's good what she does, but she's gonna get hurt eventually. She should stop. Join the police or something."

An Asian woman with a child beside her came on screen next, "It was good that she helped when no one else would. But I wouldn't tell my kids to be like her. Leave it to the police."

The news reporter narrated, "But some people are a lot more supportive of Batgirl…"

On screen a group of kids on the street looked into the camera, some waving and pulling faces as the older ones talked.

"Batgirl is cool man, a kid in school said he saw her on a roof the other night!"

Another one butted in saying that she wanted to be like Batgirl, laughing as she punched the air with gloved hands.

The camera turned on the newsperson as he smiled saying, "Although we are told that the police are in search of the Batgirl, one thing is for certain. She is certainly a hero in the eyes of Gotham's youth. This was Gregory Jackson reporting."

* * *

On her way to the soup kitchens, she stopped just as she was going to climb up a nearby wall.

She had heard a frightened scream a few blocks away.

She looked over the gutters to see where the muffled yells where from.

Her blood boiled as she saw a scumbag outside the back of a bar, grabbing for a woman in the dark shadows of dumpsters. He had pinned her against the wall as she tried to shout for help above the booming music in the bar.

A masked Barbara ran off the three-story building, grabbing for a washing line with a gloved hand and swinging off the washing line, she grabbed a window ledge that was a story down, before taking another jump onto a dumpster, finally sliding off it and onto the ground.

"LET HER GO."

Turning, the man looked at the girl he had seen in all of the papers.

The Batgirl everyone was talking about reached over her shoulder to pull out a metal bar, letting it spin on her gloved finger in a single move.

Before the man could say anything, a fist made contact with his pasty unshaven face. He groaned he was kicked to the ground, still clutching his bloody mouth.

Barbara lowered her weapon, her dark mouth opened in shock when she saw the man fall to the ground in a heap before the once-helpless girl, who was now smiling devilishly with a watch and a wallet in hand.

Barbara was speechless as she looked at the girl with blonde messy hair in the darkness.

The young blonde woman now turned her attention to a dumfounded Barbara and a delighted grin spread across her face as she looked at her in the increasingly bright moonlight.

"Why do you look so surprised? You taught me that move, remember?"

Barbara stayed silent, confused.

The girl went on, letting her excitement show as she got closer.

"The whole of Gotham is talking about you, you know. I knew that it was you! But why did you send me that letter? You said you'd never come back… I thought you were with B…"

As the blonde girl looked her over she smirked, pausing from the excited babble.

"Selina, why are you wearing _sneakers_?"

Barbara looked serious as she tucked her weapon back behind her shoulder.

"Look, I think that you have me confused with someone else…"

"Ohh… You're the Batgirl now. I get it."

Barbara pursed her lips in annoyance and stepped closer.

"I'm not the Batgirl and I'm not Serena or whoever you think I am. I just came here to help but you are wasting my time. Right now someone somewhere in this city actually needs it."

Looking at her face in the light, Jen saw that behind the large holes in the mask the woman was too young, her large almond eyes on closer inspection were dark blue and her voice did not purr like Selina's, instead it rang out clear and concise.

Disappointed and deflated, Jen replied bitterly, "Aren't you gonna give me a slap on the wrist for stealing before you go or whatever?"

As Barbara leapt up onto a nearby wall she turned. Jen saw her breath in the cold night as a streetlight shone down on her.

"No. When that guy took you out of that bar he did so at his own risk… If there were more girls like you and I around, a man might think twice before dragging a girl out into a dark alleyway in the middle of the night."

Jen smiled as she saw the girl jump and climb her way out of sight, like some version of free running through the urban landscape.

She wasn't as smooth as Selina but even Jen had to admit, the girl had style.

* * *

She stood looking down at the community centre on the roof of an apartment block.

Mainly women and children crowded in as she watched them walk in.

Lately there had been some trouble around these parts, talk of fights over food and over crowding.

She wasn't sure what she was doing but it felt right, although part of her wondered if she should be helping in a different way.

As she sat the smell of the Chinese restaurant a few blocks away made her quite hungry.

She sat on the roof and brought her knees to her chin, resting on her modified suit.

She had lately bought a superbike at a rather questionable auction in Gotham, knowing it was probably stolen years ago when the richest places in Gotham were looted.

It was impossible for the police to trace those thousands of stolen items so most were just given up as lost.

She really did love her bike; she bought it with the money she saved through college, she was a scholarship student so she had a tidy sum saved from her various college funds.

She hid the bike at a unit she bought near the docks, a short bus ride and walking distance from where she lived. She was still getting to grips with driving it so she favoured getting around the city on foot.

She was subtle. Unlike a certain other masked vigilante...

Her suit was a customised thick Lycra unitard with leather motorcycle armor sewn on, covering her body where protection was needed but still allowed absolute flexibility.

As she sat on the roof, rubbing her padded arm with a gloved hand, she thought about the Batman.

When she wasn't busy like this she often found her thoughts wandering to the night he saved her.

She shook her head from the thought as she remembered that if he hadn't of been there in the first place, she would not have let the scientist press that panic button and she would have got out fine.

As she hugged her new bulkier hard body she reluctantly remembered how she got on the bike that night weeks ago, although it was against her better judgement.

She remembered how she stopped breathing when she got on that thing, wondering what to grab hold of. She hated not being in control.

She felt the cool breeze on her warming cheeks as she remembered the bike's speed underneath her and the fact she had a cheek buried into the cold capes hard material and how she felt the cool armour under her gloves but felt the steady rise and fall of his chest underneath…

She stood up and gave her hands a shake.

Stupid daydreaming never solved anyone's problems.

* * *

Finding one person in Gotham was never going to be a simple task, even for someone who knew Gotham inside out.

He had, what was apparently called the "Batpod" hidden a few blocks away and used grappling hooks to move over Gotham's streets unnoticed.

As he reached a building where he had a good viewpoint he looked through what looked like binoculars as he scanned the city below.

Some buildings had warm air or smoke blowing out of the tops, making it harder to see with the heat vision.

He turned around, looking behind.

He adjusted the focus as he thought he saw something from far away.

The red blotch became a red figure as he watched it crouch on a faraway roof.

He wasted no time going in its direction, his skill with grappling hooks had increased greatly and he covered ground quickly.

* * *

Barbara leaped onto the community centre and carefully stepped over the tiles with flat feet, not making any noise.

There were some glass panels on the roof as she climbed up the steep slope, peering in at what looked like a large dining hall.

As she thought about taking off her suit to help the other volunteers as Barbara Gordon, she slid off the steep part of the roof and onto the flat again, noticing that her shoelace had come undone.

As she tightened her Chuck Taylors she couldn't help but suddenly feel uneasy.

She looked around as she looked wearily through her balaclava, hand reaching behind her shoulder where she had two short metal bars in a long pocket. It was the weapon they had chosen for her in her training.

She slid them out, looking from left to right as she took a step backwards.

"I'd put those away if I were you."

She gasped at she swung around to where the voice had came from, it directly from behind.

Turning she took the bars out while aiming a kick in his direction.

He blocked it.

She backed off as she swung her bars in both hands, they whistled as she spun them in a blur.

She knew that he would come looking for her eventually, but it made her angry nevertheless.

"What do you want _Batman_? Did you run out of murderers, rapists and muggers? Or do you want them all to yourself?"

She didn't want to make an enemy of Batman, but she was perfectly willing to fight if he was.

He watched her as she stood still, watching him through eyes that were bright against the heavy black makeup around them.

Her image seemed burned in his mind; he had seen her constantly in the papers, news and analysed footage of her exploits.

She seemed so slim and small, even with black padded outfit. When he noticed the sneakers he couldn't help but laugh to himself at the audacity of her costume.

This girl was considered by some to be the future of crime fighting?

John found it hard to find her amusing for long though, she stood in such dignified silence.

He told her slowly that the police needed her and that it was in her own interests that she didn't try to resist.

She smirked at that.

"For being the 'Dark Knight', you sure sound like a cop to me…"

Turning for the edge of the roof she decided to waste no more time arguing, leaping for the nearest building below.

As she felt both of her feet leaving the ground she was suddenly pulled back by her arm, it was painfully twisted behind her shoulder blade.

As he pulled her back to the roof she kicked behind while also tossing back her head to butt him in the jaw.

She twisted her arm back and tried to get away again, only he was too quick and strong. She regretted not taking one of those white pills tonight.

As they fought she used her superior agility and skill, but his grip was vicelike as again and again he stopped her from leaping away.

They fought furiously as their techniques clashed, neither one had the upper hand.

Becoming impatient she remembered what she was taught in her recent weeks of training, they had been told that sometimes you had to sacrifice yourself first if you wanted to become ultimately victorious.

Taking a sharp intake of breath she didn't block his next hit, the impact coming into contact with her chest.

Before the pain of the blow crippled her, she lounged for his throat. Her thin arms were all the more useful when it came to chocking someone in a headlock.

As he tried to throw her off him, she tightened her arm and with the other hand she pulled it back to give his neck a lethal jab.

He was on his knees now and didn't struggle as much as she waited for him to pass out.

As he gasped for air his hand reached underneath his cape, pulling out a dart.

Suddenly hysteric screams came from below them. The scream was so loud the two paused.

There were more cries for help as Barbara stopped what she was doing, pushing him away with annoyance and letting him breathe again.

The cries made her remember what she was really supposed to be doing.

They looked at each other wearily, keeping their distance, before looking over the edge of the roof.

* * *

**So, go on and tell a girl what might be down there... I'll be darned if I know! I'm only the author!**

**Tell me more about stuff I should put in... As usual your reviews and stuff make me tres happy! **

**If you wanted Barbara to totally thrash him, I'm sorry but from experience *lets not talk about it* it is REALLY hard to totally over-power a man... And to knock someone out cold who is older, heavier, taller and stronger than you... You need your head and not your fists. Which is what B.G. did. **

**Also, do you like the plot so far...? (I'm planning something explosive for Part II... It might even have to be rated M! *GASP*)**

**Love, DonJuan**


	22. Be Somebody

In the narrow street a woman was screaming as the doors of the community centre were closing. There was no more food for the crowd of people left outside on the wet sidewalk.

His throat really did hurt like hell as he tried to swallow the pain and speak. Before he could the Batgirl stopped him.

All he saw was the silhouette of her profile as she began talking. He could tell that she was still recovering from the blow he gave her as sometimes she had to pause to catch her breath. He could tell she was angry.

She looked down, surveying the situation closely.

"I could've taken your mask off back there," she said, "but I don't give a damn about who you are."

He tried to say something but his throat was on fire. She continued.

"You don't realise that the Bat is history now. Yes, he saved my life and my family's, shaped my childhood and gave hope to millions... But that was then and times have changed."

She adjusted the Velcro on her gloves as she looked out at the amber streets that surrounded her.

"Now he's just an urban legend, an old story you tell kids, or a statue in a park. He'll never really die because he was never really a man… He was mythical, infallible, incorruptible…"

John choked as he forced a word out.

"S-symbol."

She nodded as she unzipped something in the dark.

"Yeah, but that was the problem. You can't really care for or love a symbol; no tears will ever be shed for Batman… Not even by the people who looked up to him."

She took out a line and hooked herself onto the building, wrapping up her short speech.

"Watch me when I go down there. You won't see a myth or a piece of living history. Just someone with a crazy black suit and metal sticks... But a crazy, unsophisticated someone like me, is better than a mythical no one like you…"

He looked at her mutely, unimpressed at her bitter little speech.

She stood on the wall, still facing him. He secretly hoped that she'd slip as she stepped backwards to the very edge.

"And sorry about the throat, you won't be able to talk for a while. Trust me."

She plummeted silently out of sight into the darkness.

His anger rose as he stepped to the edge of the roof to see nothing but the shadows underneath. She had stung his pride in every possible way and as he meditated on what she said his thoughts were cut short.

* * *

Barbara stood in the shadows as the screaming continued to echo in the empty street.

"There is no more food! I'm ringing the police is you take one more damn step, lady!"

Now she was on the ground she saw that the woman who was causing the disturbance had a bundle of blankets in her arm that had now began to wail violently. The noise was making the situation all the more frantic.

In the shadows she walked closer to the woman who was now standing in the street alone, everyone else had dispersed.

Her screaming came to ear-splitting crescendo as a flash of steel came from behind her back.

A couple of screams came from inside as the woman raved that she'd kill herself.

"Ma'am? Stop. You don't need to do that."

The woman turned to point her kitchen knife at a girl in black who stood ten feet away, hands held up in the air. One hand had a small handful of cash as she continued to speak in a low voice, asking the lady to drop the knife.

* * *

John was surprised to see the long knife gleam in the streetlight. He was also surprised to find that the masked, self-proclaimed vigilante carried a wallet with her as she jumped over rooves all night. Did she keep cash to stop for coffee and donuts each night? By now nothing would have surprised him.

As the woman stood standing in the street, John couldn't hear what they were saying. The woman continued to scream while her baby wailed.

He thought about intervening as the woman brought the steel to her own throat, but what could he do?

* * *

"Ma'am your child will definitely be taken away if you behave like this. I have about fifty dollars in my hand; it's yours if you throw away the knife right now…"

The woman's knuckles were white as her hand shook, blubbering before throwing the knife with a splash onto the ground.

* * *

John had seen her talk to the woman in the street for about fifteen minutes. The woman had collapsed with grief but Batgirl grabbed her before she fell, holding her up in the quiet night.

It seemed that no one had called the police.

John left the scene as the woman went on her way with the fifty dollars. Whatever the Batgirl said had apparently comforted her.

* * *

As Batgirl looked up at the roof above her she was sure that the Batman had left. When she had said those things she had really meant them but it didn't stop her feeling slightly guilty.

Her anger had been building steadily over the last few weeks; it seemed as she saved more people every night she found more problems with the rancid city.

Every night she came home with her hope and enthusiasm was drained a bit more.

She decided to return home early as she put on her helmet, driving out onto the streets.

Her heart raced as she slowly went by an unexpected parked squad car, but the men barely looked up as they drank their coffee. Barbara faintly smiled to herself as she thought about how sticking to the speed limit really paid off when it came to sneaking by cops.

* * *

Arkham Asylum was silent as the grave tonight.

A security guard looked out into the still night as he stood at the main entrance.

There had been good money invested to the place, meaning that the cells were totally soundproof. The guard welcomed it. Back in the old days you could always hear haunted wailings no matter where you where.

The place was shiny and sterile now, blue-white light shone everywhere making you feel constantly cold.

Tonight one patient was finally leaving for good. It didn't happen often but when it did it was extremely secret and low-key.

He was dressed in a brown suit, blonde hair neatly in place and wearing round spectacles.

His youthful features were regular and he would have been considered handsome if it wasn't for the distinctly unsettling way he seemed to smile.

Beside him a young woman with blonde hair smiled at him encouragingly.

The guard looked on as the pair talked.

She was one of the new staff, a psychologist who had recently ruffled one or two feathers with her new ideas and new ways of working. She had fought hard for James Gordon, allowing him to spend more and more time outside the Asylum and now he was free to go.

"We'll have bi-weekly visits, but other than that…"

James looked down at her, eyes filled with gratitude.

"I want to thank you Dr. Q. I've appreciated what you've done. You never gave up on me… Never."

"And you've been my best patient, it'll be odd not seeing you every day…"

James asked her what she would do now after he was gone.

"Hah. Well, the guys up top have 'promoted' me to the high security unit. I guess they don't want anyone else to get rehabilitated so they've given me the most hopeless case in the entire place."

With a smile she told him to look after himself as the security guard wearily got up to unlock the series of doors that led outside to where a car was waiting in the distance outside the huge iron gates.

As James Gordon took his first breath as a free man in the night air, he couldn't help curling his mouth into a sneer.

* * *

She had only come in through the window fifteen minutes ago.

She was still in her suit as she now retched violently over the toilet bowl in her small bathroom. Her stomach was empty, making it worse.

She swept her thick wavy hair back with shaking hands as her kneecaps knocked together under the harsh yellow light.

Now the retching had subsided tears flooded down her shocked still face as her breath quivered with every exhale.

She had turned on the television before going to bed, a habit that helped her wind down and go to sleep.

On the news there was no mention of Gotham's increasingly desperate poor or even the Batgirl.

Tonight's breaking news was that a young teenager who had been missing for weeks had been found dead.

The girl had been found only a few blocks from where she had just come from.

It looked like the work of the Peter Pan killer.

Barbara had grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a glass, throwing it at a nearby wall before running to the bathroom.

As she lay sprawled out on the tiles her eyes stared into nothingness as the tears still ran onto the white floor.

As she slowly began to recover she felt a restless feeling through her body. The burning desire for vengeance had now reawakened in her veins as her eyes turned dark.

She had felt it once when Bess had disappeared all those years ago. Now she felt it again, only stronger.

She vowed to find the people reasonable for tonight's death and bring them to justice.

Including the Batman.


	23. Epilogue

"What are you doing?"

Barbara had looked around the large creaky door.

She stood, taking in what she saw.

Her mouth let out a loud high scream.

She screamed with grief, panic and horror.

She screamed until her lungs and throat ached and her legs feel from underneath her.

Her pet mouse was lying decapitated on the table on the garage bench. Each organ in its fleshy tones of blues, purples and red lay out in a neat array.

Her mother punished him and told him off.

Her father told her mother that he was only inquisitive, that he was doing it for school.

Barbara hated her brother.

She was the only one that knew what he was and what he had done.

* * *

**End of part I.**

**Part II: s/9552899/1/A-Dark-Knight-Returns-II**


	24. Extract

**EXTRACT FROM PART II**

That afternoon John Blake had visited Wayne Tower to take the grapple gun that he had forgotten to take with him previously. His suspicion was immediately sparked as he had found that the grapple gun, some sticky explosives and her piece of homemade hardware had gone missing along with her suit. It didn't take him long to guess what she was planning.

He had tried ringing her and visited her apartment. Finding that no one was home he had decided to go to the place that he definitely knew she would be later that evening.

John had decided to crash the party the old-fashioned way, ignoring the high-tech equipment that Barbara used to go wherever she wanted. With Alfred's help, John was now dressed in a new fitted tux as he entered with a crowd of latecomers, getting by the security at the door without trouble, blending in with the polished group that crowded into the elevator, bound for the top floor.

He entered the party to see a large crowd of standing people, loitering as they munched and talked their way through the first few hours. It was looked so mind-numbingly boring he found it hard to envy them.

He was offered a glass of champagne and took it, not taking a drink from the glass flute. He looked around as the tinkle of a piano mingled with all those high, eloquent voices that weren't unlike Barbara's in their clarity and politeness.

After a few paces around the room he didn't see her, although he did see the Commissioner. As usual he looked like he had been dragged there while the new Lieutenant beside him laughed like a fool at some joke an old short fat guy cracked. He turned away, not wanting to be seen before coming face-to-face with Barbara Gordon. She looked at him in surprise as he stared. Men always stared Barbara Gordon version 2.0.

She had darted over to John while Jason was busy talking to some judge, knowing that John was probably looking for her. She noted that he was looking pretty sharp, a change from the usual stubble and slightly messy hair she was accustomed to.

"What are you doing here?" She glanced around before dragging him by the sleeve, to the edge of the crowd. His voice was low, which was good as she knew that that rough-part-of-the-city drawl of his would get them noticed faster than anything else.

"I came here to ask you the same question."

Before Barbara could reply a waiter came over and offered them a plateful of fancy canapés. They smiled and refused, attempting to look like regular guests. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot Barbara quickly replied that it was neither his concern nor business.

"You're crazy," he retorted, "I looked it up, some personal security agency that's three buildings from here is your target." She opened her mouth but he cut her off. "You left an article cutting on your desk."

She cursed herself for the simple error before listening to him promise her that she was not leaving the building before taking a drink of champagne. She remembered reluctantly how fast his reflexes where before looking over her shoulder. Jason Bard cut through the crowd as Barbara replied though barred teeth, smiling at the approaching detective. "I'd like to see you try _Robin_."

"I wondered where you got to…" Bard came over, his friendly smile slowly turning steely as he saw John.

Barbara smiled and shrugged, the awkward situation had made her drop the sophisticated persona for a moment. "I was looking for the host and bumped into my ol…John Blake."

John had forgotten how much he hated champagne as he watched the flustered Barbara try to string words together, if the situation had been different and he might have even found it funny. But it wasn't, so he didn't.

"What have you been doing with yourself, Blake?" Jason narrowed his eyes for a second as he said it, in his interrogation mode. He was suspicious already.

John replied with something vague before Barbara added hastily that they both volunteered at the Wayne Home. "You volunteer there too?" Jason was partly surprised and impressed that Barbara could find the time to donate so much of her time to those in need. "What do you two do there?"

"Coach." Barbara replied, the lies were coming to her easily now as they were slowly becoming half-truths. She was going to start tutoring some older kids after Christmas.

"We coach ball." John elaborated.

Before the interrogation could continue the sound of a microphone squeaking sounded with a piercing squawk that made everyone wince.

The three turned as an elderly man stood at a podium with shaking hands, slowly putting on his glasses with shaking hands before taking out a handful of notes from his breast pocket. Every heart in the room dropped as they watched him slowly begin, his introduction speech was probably going to take thirty minutes alone.

"I'm going to err…powder my nose." She whispered to Jason, leaning her mouth very close to his ear. From here he could smell the vanilla of her perfume.

John knew what she was doing as he saw her sly move. He couldn't possibly drag her back or even touch her with that asshole Bard in the way.

As he thought wistfully about using a smoke-bomb to get away, the thought struck him that he had brought a few things with him- he had decided against underestimating Barbara again, she had a habit of surprising him. He reached into his pocket, as if for a pen before clicking a small button. The softly lit room was suddenly plunged into darkness and a few screams and laughs were heard.

He walked through the darkness purposefully as he used a pair of small night-vision binoculars to get though the crowd.

* * *

**CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORIES AND FOLLOW PART II TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT! IT WILL BE UPDATED SOON!**


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